New York State Of Mind
by CopyCat'sWork
Summary: Ok. I own nothing from this story. I found this on another fanfic site and just had to post it...hence the pen-name. This story is a counterpart to Keeping the Faith. VERY VERY M. You are warned! Takes place in New York. FIXED CHAPTERS!


Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: New York, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:LV, CSI:Miami, or CSI:NY. I don't own any of those characters. I don't own CBS.

It was late, and Don Flack was tired.

It had been a long shift, with the usual helpless victims and complete scumbags. Now, as the little hand on his watch menaced the 10--he'd clocked in at friggin' 8 in the morning, for chrissakes--the victims were given justice, the scumbags were behind bars, and Don was looking forward to going home and zoning out in front of the tube before calling it a night.

The crime lab was nearly deserted at this hour, as nearly all the other swing-shifters had finished their jobs and gone home. As far as he knew, it was just him and Mac.

In fact, he was on his way to see Mac. Just a couple of papers for the former Marine to sign, then Flack was home free. Looking around the darkened, lonely corridors, Don figured that the boss was in his office, going over some last-minute paperwork of his own. Flack leafed through the papers as he flipped the light off in the break room, telling the tired part of himself to shut up and wait. He so wanted to get out of his brand new suit--charcoal gray looked good on him if he did say so himself, but the fit was all wrong. The pants were somehow longer than his legs, and the arms bunched around his wrists. That, and one of his witnesses-turned-scumbags had remarked that she hadn't seen a tie that ugly since some kids in her neighborhood had played a cruel joke on a blind man down the street. This bothered Flack; he liked to dress nice, and a man could only own so many suits before it got weird.

Flack shoved these thoughts on the back burner. _Almost done_, he thought to himself. Feeling oddly like an intruder when his footsteps echoed, he walked a bit quieter, somehow unwilling to disturb the satisfied silence of the lab, monitors darkened and machines humming with the quiet contentment of a job well done.

Silently Flack rounded the corner, seeing Mac at his desk, the door open. Flack started to raise his voice to grab the man's attention when something else caught his eye.

For one thing, Mac was seated kinda funny. Sure, he was at his desk, his dress shirt buttoned properly, sleeves rolled up, jacket hanging over his chair, but that wasn't what Flack had noticed. Mac was sitting with his chair turned sideways, his right hand on the desk. For another thing, Mac had an odd look on his face; he almost looked in pain as far as Flack could see, when suddenly the Lab Boss threw his head back, gasping quietly, the right hand flexing and extending and rubbing slow circles on the desk top.

Flack's voice died completely. _Mac's jerkin' himself off?_ Sure enough, he could see the man's shoulders swaying slightly and in a regular rhythm. Flack was ready to make a U-turn when Mac's **left hand** raised from its former position on the armrest of the chair to run his fingers through his own hair. A choked groan escaped the Marine's lips, his shoulders still swaying.

Flack's brain crashed. _Mac Taylor, Mr. Professionalism himself, is getting a blowjob in his office, after hours._ Part of his mind recovered enough to get the detective wondering. _Who? Stella? Lindsay? That new girl in the trace lab?_

Flack couldn't tear his eyes from the sight of Mac writhing in exquisite agony as his mystery lover knelt between his knees. He watched for a few more minutes before he realized it was giving him a hard-on. This disturbed him on one level--he felt like he was violating Mac's privacy--when another side of him thought that it was one of the hottest things Flack's blue eyes had ever seen. Mac mouthed a few silent curses, licking his lips, and the heat began to pool in Flack's good dress pants before he even realized it.

_I wonder what that tongue tastes like...  
What the hell am I thinking?!_

Don Flack squared his shoulders, resolving to walk quickly--and very quietly--away when Mac stiffened in his chair, a low growl bouncing down the corridor. He twitched and grunted for several seconds before collapsing back in the chair with a satisfied sigh. What happened next, Flack simply couldn't believe.

_DANNY MESSER_ rose from his spot on the floor between his boss's knees, a thin line of white trickling down his chin. As Flack watched in shock, Danny braced his hands on the chair's armrests and leaned down, capturing Mac's lips in a kiss that made Flack's knees wobble. The Marine opened his mouth, tongue clearly dueling with that of the Italian, before they finally broke apart to breathe. Danny didn't get too far away as Mac's hand shot out to cradle the back of the younger man's head, the Lead Detective's broad pink tongue cleaning every trace of himself off Danny's goateed face.

Once he was properly cleaned, Danny straightened, and the two simply looked at each other for several seconds before Mac shifted in his chair, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping up. The Marine gave another contented sigh, rolled his head on his shoulders and looked up at Danny. "You want some help with that?" he asked quietly, indicating the visible tent in Danny's tight jeans.

Danny gave a casual smirk. "Nah. I don't go now, I'll miss the train. I'm catchin' the red-eye bus, remember?"

"Yeah," Mac grumbled, disappointed. Rubbing his brow, the Marine reached to the surface of his desk, grasping something and handing it back to Danny. It was the Italian's badge, Flack realized, as he clipped it back onto his belt. When it was secure, Mac handed him his gun. While Danny fiddled with that, Mac stood and reattached his own weapon and shield.

This done, the demeanor of both changed visibly. Gone were the lovers, here was two NYPD detectives going home for the night. "Have a safe trip, Danny. See you in a couple of days." The Marine reached over, clapping the Italian's shoulder in a friendly way.

Danny nodded graciously. "Take it easy, Mac." With that, Danny turned and pulled his jacket off the chair across from Mac's desk--Flack hadn't even noticed it--put it on, and grabbed a small duffel off the floor. He shouldered it, turning to glance and smile over his shoulder before heading out the door.

Flack suddenly realized that he was horribly, horribly exposed, and panic overrode caution: he ducked back into the hallway, running as quickly and quietly as humanly possible. The movement caught Danny's eye, but he got little more than a glimpse of the fleeing, long-legged detective as he rounded the corner and dove out of sight. Danny halted in mid-stride, going pale.

Noticing this, Mac stood and moved to the doorway of his office. "What's wrong, Danny?"

The Italian swallowed. "Flack." He turned and looked the Marine in the eye. "I think he saw us."

_Mac is going to kill me._ This thought would not leave Flack's mind. He'd fled to the men's room of all places, picking a stall at random, ducking inside and slamming the pitiful lock home. He lowered the seat and the lid before plonking himself on the john, papers forgotten at his feet. Elbows on his knees, face in his hands, he sighed and figured it would be a lot easier to think if this damn hard-on would go away.

_I'm a straight man; I've never looked sideways at another guy before. There's no way I can be this turned on._ This thought whispered in his head, only to drown in the realization that Flack didn't think he'd ever been so hard in his life. He found himself imagining himself seated behind Mac's desk, Danny on his knees, looking up at him with those pretty blue eyes as his lips slowly closed around Flack's aching hard dick...

Biting back a moan, Flack massaged himself through his pants. In his little fantasy, Mac towered over him, pinning his wrists to the armrests, face inches from Flack's ear. "You like that, don't you?" Mac whispered in a throaty growl, hot breath tickling the side of Flack's face as Danny's head bobbed over his crotch.

"Oh, God," Flack whispered to the empty bathroom. Throwing self-preservation to the wind, Flack unzipped himself quietly, leaning back on the toilet seat, wrapping his fist around his iron-hard cock. He knew he should be getting the hell out of there, maybe making a run for the border, but the images just would not leave him alone. In his waking wet dream, Mac kept Flack's hands pinned as he ran his tongue down the side of Flack's neck, parting the mysteriously open collar of Flack's shirt, teasing his collarbone with tongue and teeth and lips. "Oh, fuck yeah..."

Eyes tightly shut, Flack pumped himself hard as dream-Danny relaxed his throat muscles and sucked Flack all the way down to the root. He didn't even realize he was cursing quietly until he heard a voice and stilled, realized that it was his own words bouncing off the tile walls. Biting down what sounded suspiciously like a whine, Flack stroked himself harder, faster. His orgasm snuck up on him, and he barely contained the shout as he came hard, Danny's and Mac's names on his lips. When his breathing quieted and he opened his eyes, he stared down at himself, then past himself to the papers on the floor.

Papers. For Mac. With Flack's cum splattered all over them.

Fuck.

His spent equipment still dangling from his open fly, Flack leaned forward again, face in his hands. "Mac is going to _kill_ me."

Just outside the men's room, Danny and Mac stood silently, Mac holding the door open by a mere inch and a half. Both found themselves getting hard again--well, Mac was getting hard, anyway; Danny had yet to relieve himself--and as Flack came with their names echoing toward them, they threw heavy-lidded glances at each other.

Danny leaned into the side of Mac's face. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" he whispered, running a thin tongue around the shell of Mac's ear for good measure.

Mac gave a pleased twitch, turning to the Italian with a predatory smile. He controlled himself, closing the door without a sound before leaning down to catch Danny's mouth in a quick kiss. "Go catch your shuttle, Danny. I'll take care of Don."

Danny grinned. "Don't scare 'im off, Mac. I want a piece, too."

Mac smiled broadly and slid his hands around Danny's thin waist. "I'll do my best."

Danny started to say something when the sound of running water came from behind the door. Danny darted in to mash his lips against Mac's before making a silent dash for the stairwell. Mac turned and headed back for his office.

Mac didn't see Don again for the rest of the night; probably he'd slipped out the back and run for the hills. It did bother him when Flack didn't come to work the next day, until he remembered that it was Flack's scheduled day off. He didn't like it; on one hand, this gave Flack time to think, to come to terms with both what he had seen, and his little trip to the bathroom afterward. On the other hand, this situation needed to be resolved quickly and before Flack worked himself up into a panic, believing that Mac was going to come barreling through his apartment door at any moment, bearing one of any number of large and terrifying automatic weapons.

Which was why it surprised Mac to hear a knock on his door, late that night after work. Frowning, he stood and walked to the door, eyebrows climbing to the ceiling as he threw open the lock, stepping back and spreading his arms to catch Danny as he flew at Mac like a homesick puppy.

Danny buried his face in Mac's neck, letting his duffel drop to the floor. For his part, Mac had long ago grown used to Danny's enthusiastic greetings, and simply wrapped his arms around the thin waist and held him. He could feel the younger man trembling, though whether it was delight at being home, or at being in Mac's arms, he couldn't tell. When Danny shifted and Mac felt something hard poking him in the leg, he revised his opinion.

"Miss me?" came Danny's voice, slightly muffled by Mac's well-muscled neck.

Mac smiled. "You know I did... but honestly, Danny, it's only been a couple of days. In fact, I didn't expect you to be back until tomorrow."

Danny shrugged, letting Mac's scent overwhelm him. "Trial went smoother than I thought. The defense caved, so they let me go home early. And besides," and here he leaned back, giving Mac that dazzling smile of his. "It's only been a couple'a days for _you_. Me, I ain't touched myself since last time."

Mac blinked as all sorts of titillating and unwholesome images filled his mind. The last time Danny had pulled this stunt, it had taken whole hours before both of them were finally sated. "Danny..."

"C'mon, Mac. I need it..." Danny whined, nibbling on the Marine's neck.

"At least let me close the door first."

"...oh."

They broke apart, Mac moving to the door. "Have you eaten?" he asked, as much to calm Danny down as to be courteous.

"Well, I tried eatin' some pizza from this shop across from th' bus station, but..."

Mac gave a half-smile, sliding the deadbolt closed and locking the chain into place. "Not like what you can find at home?"

"Nah, more like a rental than a buy." Danny gave him the other half of the smile as he stretched his arms. "Now that ya mention it, I'm starvin'."

Mac moved to the kitchen, Danny following by a few feet. "How does cheeseburgers sound?" Mac finally asked after browsing through the fridge. Danny made a noise of approval as he reached into the cupboard over the sink for the glasses.

Danny seated himself comfortably at Mac's table as the Marine took the first offered glass, filling it with ice and handing it back to Danny along with a beer out of the fridge. Danny usually drank straight out of the longnecks, but Mac didn't approve of such things in his household. Too easy to drink too many. Once Danny was situated, Mac repeated the same process for his own drink.

Setting the glass and bottle on the counter, Mac squirted some cooking oil into a frying pan and set it on the stove. While it was heating up, he reached for a peg on the wall, slipping an olive-green apron over his neck and tying it neatly in the back. It had been a gift from Danny, and was a source of amusement for both of them: black block letters graced the front, as though they'd been spray-painted through a stencil. "GRILL SERGEANT," the apron proclaimed, with a spatula and a barbecue fork crossed like swords underneath the letters, and a large Sergeant's stripes below that.

There was something comforting to Danny about watching Mac cook, watching him wash his hands before reaching into the container of ground beef, shaping the patties on a cutting board as the frying pan now hissed and spat. With practiced carefulness, Mac moved the patties to the hot grease, pressing some, turning others, poking occasionally with a fork to check doneness. Danny's stomach was growling by the time the first set of patties was almost done, and he hopped up to grab plates and trimmings.

By the time the table was set, Mac was sprinkling some seasonings on the meat, laying two slices of cheese over each and moving them to the plate. Danny hadn't said anything throughout the whole process; Mac didn't like to be interrupted while he was cooking, but once the meat was on the plate, he hung up his apron and began pre-cleaning the kitchen. He would clean the whole thing after he ate, but the thought of leaving cooling grease and thawing meat just sitting there bothered him.

"How'd the thing with Flack go?" Danny asked finally, hissing quietly as he grabbed a burger with his bare hands, dropping it haphazardly on the bun and sticking wounded fingers in his mouth.

"I haven't talked to him yet," Mac admitted, pouring the grease carefully into a tin can that he kept around for just such a purpose; once it cooled, he'd throw it away. It was one of the first things he'd taught Danny after he'd first cooked for him: never pour hot grease down the sink. It would cool, then clog, then become both messy and expensive to clean up. Mac filled one side of the sink with hot soapy water, then ran piping hot water on the other side to rinse the pan before dropping it in the water. Rule number two: never put hot metal into water that was anything less than scalding. Otherwise, the pan could warp, and Mac would be out one perfectly good frying pan. "You heard what he said, Danny. He thinks I'm going to kill him."

"He knows you wouldn't do that, Mac," Danny offered, opening a bun on Mac's plate and reaching for the plate of burgers again, this time with a fork. "You're friends, remember?"

"I know," Mac sighed, running hot water over a paper towel and carefully sliding the raw meat from his counter over the side to the tin can. "I can't tell you what's going through his mind. All I know is that _me_ talking to him probably wouldn't be the best idea." He dropped the towel in the trash can and grabbed a fresh one, wetting it and repeating the process. Rule number three: never use a sponge to clean up raw meat. Only use paper towels with hot water, change towels frequently, and when he'd decided that he'd gotten all the meat up, he'd go over it again with cleaner and disinfectant.

Mac stood back and eyed his kitchen for a moment, hands on his hips. He nodded to himself, deciding that it was clean enough for him to sit down and eat comfortably, but dishes were the first thing on his list when the meal was over. He'd timed it perfectly, too; stepping over to the table, Danny had fixed a plate for Mac and himself, the Italian rubbing his hands together and waiting with strained politeness for the Marine to seat himself before diving in.

"Breathe, Danny," Mac said with amused pride, watching Danny gulp down his food like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

Danny held up a finger to gain a few seconds, chewing furiously, reaching for his glass and washing down his mouthful with beer. "I told you I was hungry. And besides, Mac, you make better burgers than anybody I know." Mac ducked his head, pleased, and took another neat bite of his meal. "So what do you wanna do about Flack?"

Mac chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "I think you'd better be the one to talk to him. If I showed up at his door, he'd probably use the fire escape."

Danny couldn't help a snort at that one. "I wonder if he knows that we both want to jump him," he cackled, and then his amusement faded. "Yeah, I should talk to him. I'm the reason we got caught in the first place."

Mac sat his half-eaten burger on the plate, taking a drink before propping an elbow on the table and pointing a stern finger at his guest. "You're right, it is your fault," he growled, but Danny could see the twinkle in his eye. "You broke our rule."

"I know," Danny whined, slumping his shoulders. "I just knew that I wasn't gonna see you for a few days, and we wouldn't have time at home before I had to catch the train."

"Danny," Mac sighed, shaking his head. "You remembered what we agreed to. We keep seeing each other exclusively like this, and we're bound to slip up again. I agreed to it on the conditions that we would protect the reputation and the integrity of the lab."

"I know it's just a fling, Mac, and the badge comes first. It's just... we got a good thing goin' on, here." Danny pleaded, pouting up at Mac with those big blue eyes, and Mac sighed.

"Why do I let you do this to me?" the Marine grumbled good-naturedly, picking up his burger for another bite.

Danny grinned. "'Cause I'm the only one that'll let you do _that_ to me?"

Mac made a choking noise, reaching for his beer.

Danny's grin grew even wider. "Breathe, Mac."

Half an hour later, Danny was sprawled on Mac's couch with his glass of beer in one hand, stomach full to bursting as he caught the sports cast on the evening news. Mac was back in the kitchen, washing the dishes. Finally the water stopped running, and Danny twisted to look over his shoulder as Mac emerged, drying his hands on a towel and hanging it on the bar bolted to the oven door. Mac grabbed his glass of beer from the table, heading back to the fridge long enough to grab another pair of longnecks before wandering towards the couch.

Danny slid a few inches to the left as Mac eased down next to him, beers finding their way to coasters on the coffee table. Once Mac was down, Danny scooted back to the right, their thighs pressed together. Mac relented and swung his left arm to lay on Danny's shoulder. "You're right, I missed you," he admitted finally.

"Oh, yeah?" Danny smirked, moving his beer to his left hand and laying his right on Mac's muscled thigh. "How bad?"

Mac said nothing, pretending to be engrossed in the TV as Danny's hand moved slyly closer to Mac's crotch. The Marine couldn't completely control a twitch as the younger man's hand gently grasped his half-hearted erection. Knowing what was coming, Mac took a long pull from his glass and leaned forward to set it on the coffee table. Danny handed his over to join the first on the table, and Mac leaned back, allowing Danny to work his magic.

It didn't take long before Mac was shifting in his seat, the delicious pleasure of Danny's hand warring with his own tightening pants. Absently Mac's hand rubbed Danny's shoulder, roaming around that section of the Italian's smaller frame before wandering to the collar of Danny's T-shirt. Danny made a small noise and leaned his head back, inviting the hand to slip under the cotton fabric, ghosting over the fine hairs before locating a nipple.

Danny made a soft noise in his throat, stroking Mac harder. While nipples may not do much for Mac, Danny's were ultra-sensitive. It was after a few minutes of teasing strokes across one hardening bud before Mac removed his hand, tugging on Danny's shirt. Danny lifted his arms long enough for Mac to pull the fabric off, and suddenly Danny dove, his mouth going for Mac's trapped cock like a scud missile locked on target.

Mac jumped, groaned, at the moist heat seeping through the cloth. "Danny..."

Danny reached up, tugging at Mac's belt. Mac could only watch, heavy-lidded, as Danny popped the button and then grasped the zipper in his teeth, tugging down. One warm hand reached inside, and out came Mac's throbbing cock, which Danny promptly swallowed.

Mac gave a long, low growl, his head rolling back, one hand tangling itself in Danny's hair. Whispers of what may have been words of encouragement, or swearing, fell from his lips. His other hand ran nails over Danny's back in lazy circles, causing the Italian to double his efforts. Danny loved to be scratched.

Mac leaned back a little more, falling under Danny's spell, when Danny shifted slightly. The two locked eyes, and all Mac could see was a pair of blue eyes watching him as they bobbed over his crotch. This was enough for Mac to remove his hands from Danny and work to remove his own shirt.

Somehow they moved, Mac lying down fully on the couch, Danny still molesting Mac's length in the most delightful of ways. Mac wriggled and thrashed, tugging down his own pants. Danny assisted, still with his mouth full, and then Mac was clad only in his boxers, socks, and one hot Italian. Danny was straddling Mac's legs, tongue swirling around the head of his prize, and the Marine wasn't sure how much more he could take. "Danny..."

Danny pulled back a little. "I know," he whispered, wrapping a fist around the meaty rod and ducking down to slurp on Mac's scrotum. Mac hissed, one hand in his own hair, the other grabbing a fistful of couch. "You got any lube over here?" he asked, rolling the soft globes in his palm while the other hand pumped Mac's shaft. Eyes tightly shut, Mac could only give a quick shake of his head. Danny sighed. "Be right back, then."

Suddenly Mac was alone, and he used the opportunity to remove the socks and boxers. He'd barely finished when Danny came padding back over, barefoot but still in jeans, holding the cooking oil in one hand. He'd just set it on the coffee table when Mac attacked him, yanking him down to the couch and straddling him. Danny was too surprised to do more than yelp when a pair of lips snatched up one nipple, Mac's hands working on Danny's fly. The yelp turned into a moan, and Danny's eyes fluttered closed.

Mac worked quickly, stripping Danny of the tight jeans and cotton BVDs and dropping it all in a pile on the floor. Danny's own shaft nosed skyward, which Mac took as an opportunity to repay the favor from earlier. Mac ran a tongue around the straining head, nearly purple with frustration, before taking it into his mouth. Danny nearly leapt off the couch but Mac's broad hands grasped his hips, holding him down. It was a very well-kept secret that Mac could give one hell of a blowjob, and it was all Danny could do to hold on for dear life.

He'd asked Mac, once, where the Marine had learned to suck a dick like that. Mac had merely looked at him and said "Don't ask, don't tell." Danny had wisely left it alone.

Besides, there was something about watching his boss give him head that just made his toes curl. He gasped and swore as Mac expertly sucked Danny all the way down to the root, and even managed to flick a bit of his tongue out to tease the base. Danny loved it when Mac did that, and he hated that it drove him absolutely wild. He'd never met anybody else, on either side of the street, that could do that.

"Mac," Danny managed to groan, knuckles white as they clutched the couch. He recovered enough brainpower to reach down for the duffel that he'd dragged over to the couch earlier, fishing in one pocket. Finally he found what he was looking for, pulling out the foil square and tossing it to the older man. Mac released Danny, earning him a desperate whine, and tore the little packet with his teeth. He tossed the wrapper on the coffee table and unrolled the condom, sheathing himself, then reaching over to the table for the cooking oil. Danny spread his legs wider, one hooking over the back of the couch. "I need it, Mac. Been too long."

"Yeah," Mac growled, focused. He coated one finger with the slick substance, silently giving thanks that he had a leather couch and not some cloth for the oil to seep through. His finger rimmed the ring of Danny's tight pucker, teasing him, before nudging at the opening. Danny took the hint, consciously relaxing his muscles and allowing Mac's finger to slip in.

Danny moaned, all pretenses gone, as Mac's finger invaded him. The finger twisted, pumped, and finally curled, hitting that one spot that nearly made him scream. Mac watched through dark heavy-lidded eyes as he massaged Danny's prostate, pausing only to slip in a second finger as the younger man writhed and howled with pleasure.

Danny took a desperate gulp of air as a third finger slipped in, twisting and scissoring to coax the muscles open farther. He hated that it took so long (in his eyes) for Mac to prepare him, but it was better than the alternative. Mac was only slightly above average in length, but he more than made up for it in width. It was a thick beast of a penis, and Danny could only give silent thanks that Mac was so careful, and watch impatiently as the Marine's free hand slicked himself up.

Finally Mac deemed Danny ready, positioning himself at the entrance to that waiting heat, and leaned down. Danny knew what was coming and rose to meet Mac's lips, one hand sliding to the back of the Marine's neck to hold himself up. Danny felt the head of Mac's cock poking at him and he deepened the kiss, sucking softly until Mac's tongue slid into his mouth even as his cock slowly pushed into him.

Danny half-shouted into Mac's mouth as the Marine's cockhead finally slipped past the sphincter. Mac leaned back and stared hard at Danny, whose own eyes were closed in an overwhelming mix of pleasure and pain. Mac hated it; _every time,_ no matter how much time he spent preparing the younger man, he still ended up hurting him. It was all Mac could do to avoid thrusting forward, tearing into Danny and making him scream for all the wrong reasons, but Mac wasn't that kind of man. No, he held his hips perfectly still, bending down to run a cautious tongue around one of Danny's erect nipples, rewarded when a moan slipped out from between the stiff wheezing. Danny was right; it _had_ been too long since last time.

Just as Danny started to calm down, Mac slid forward another inch, and Danny jerked again. This time Mac put everything he had into teasing and tormenting those nipples, shifting his weight onto one arm and using his free hand to run faint scratches on the Italian's hairless stomach, and Danny moaned despite Mac sliding farther in, the pace agonizingly slow.

Finally Mac was buried as deep as he could go, and he made the mistake of looking up at Danny. His sharp eyes couldn't miss the gleaming corners of the tightly closed eyes, and he hated himself for it. Call him old-fashioned, but Mac hated to hurt anybody, especially someone that had put so much trust in him.

"Danny?" Mac whispered, and he got no response. "Danny?" he asked again, louder this time, and Danny finally gave a grunt of acknowledgement. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just gimme a... fuck, Mac, you're huge." Danny wheezed, finally opening his eyes.

"So you keep telling me," Mac replied, forcing a note of amusement into his voice.

It worked; Danny gave a tense laugh, and Mac could feel him start to relax. "Yeah, yeah I do. Kinda makes me jealous."

"Don't be," Mac said amiably, leaning forward to give Danny another deep kiss, to which Danny responded enthusiastically. Now that the initial battle was won, never was Danny so animal as when Mac was buried deep within him. Tongues dueled, mapping every square inch of their mouths, and for a moment Mac would have sworn Danny was licking his tonsils. Stars danced in front of Mac's closed eyes and he broke the kiss with a gasp, the renewed oxygen making his head spin. "Don't be jealous," he repeated. "Just makes you easier to give head to."

Danny's face twisted and he gave a half-swipe at the Marine's head, freezing as Mac pulled nearly all the way out and slowly began sliding back in. "Cheater," the Italian grumbled, voice at odds with the lust dancing over his face.

Mac tilted his head, a low growl emerging from his throat as he pushed in until his hips were flush with Danny's ass, then gave an extra twitch forward, making Danny jump and moan again. "Cheater?" Mac rumbled, eyes dark with lust. "I still owe you for breaking the rules."

Danny's eyes locked onto Mac's, the expression on the older man's face sending the blood straight out of his brain and down to his groin. He should've known better than to call Mac that; Mac considered it a personal insult to be accused of playing anything less than fair. And on the other hand... they'd never had angry sex before.

Mac slid back, nearly leaving Danny's tight warmth before sliding back in, this time a bit faster. Danny bit his lip, whimpering. One of the Italian's hands wandered down to his own cock, but Mac slapped it away with a growl. Faster Mac pulled back, and harder he pushed back in, establishing an easy rhythm that soon had Danny moaning. Several times Danny tried to stroke himself, and each time Mac denied it, until finally Mac shifted. He grabbed Danny's hips, lifting him until the man's ass was nearly seated on Mac's thighs and his legs wrapped automatically around his waist. Mac pinned the younger man's wrists above his head, against the arm of the couch, and thrust in harder.

Danny released a string of grunts and curses; the new angle was shoving his head and shoulder into the couch at a not-entirely-comfortable angle, and folded as he was it was kinda hard to breathe, and then Mac started _pounding_ him and he forgot all about air and his spine. The Marine had hips like pistons, and they fired him into that incredible dark heat with speed and force enough that the sound of flesh striking flesh had to be audible in the next apartment. Danny was all but howling now, face twisted in a picture of carnal lust. Mac was finally breaking a sweat, face tight with the effort as he slammed into Danny's tightness again and again, that tight ring of muscle milking and stroking him with every thrust until the muscles on his neck were straining.

"Mac..." Danny managed to whine. "Please..." Mac released Danny's wrists and braced himself against the side and back of the couch, the new angle giving him even more room for thrust. Danny howled again, finally able to stroke himself as one hand reached up to grasp Mac's shoulder, the grip almost as painfully tight as his ass.

Mac shifted again, leaning back a little more, and Danny all but screamed as each stroke pressed against his prostate. He couldn't last long under such an assault, and he arched his back and stroked his aching length and squeezed Mac's waist with his legs and clamped his anal muscles tightly closed, and reared his head back and closed his eyes and shrieked Mac's name as he came hard, bouncing and bucking as much as he could while still pinned in one corner of the couch.

A feral half-roar tore itself from Mac's throat; if Danny had been tight before, he was nearly excruciating now, and as he felt Danny's ass clamp down on him and the blood-hot liquid splatter onto his stomach, Mac's grip tightened so hard that the couch frame creaked. Now he really gave it to Danny hard, breaths coming in thundering gasps that seemed to drown out Danny's cries. Sweat trailed down him as he slammed into Danny again and again, making little trails down his stomach that came to pool around Danny's cum and Danny's sweat and the cooking oil, and it was so tight and so hot that God, he couldn't hold on, couldn't keep going and couldn't stop and then he shouted and then he was coming, pounding into that tight heat one last time, feeling his seed fill the condom and wishing he could fill Danny with it, and his chest heaved like a racehorse and his eyes were open but he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe.

Finally he came to a stop. He wasn't sure how, but somehow he knew that he'd stopped, that he was still buried in Danny, that Danny still had his legs around him. Sight was the first to return, hazy shades of gray defining his vision. Hearing was next as the blood finally slowed in its pounding through his head. As he looked around, absently swiping a sweaty arm across his sweaty brow, he realized that color had returned, because he looked down and saw Danny staring at him, mouth opened past normal panting, those incredible blue eyes boring into him.

Mac couldn't have asked even if he wanted to, still trying to catch his breath, but Danny answered him anyway. "You've never done that before." Danny whispered.

"Done what?" Mac finally managed to pant, sitting back on his heels but still reluctant to pull out.

Danny was silent for a moment. Then, a quiet "say my name when you come."

Mac blinked. He had? He didn't know why, but the thought of doing that... he hadn't meant to. Noticing Mac's expression change, Danny waved his hand to get the man's attention back. "Don't worry about it. I got enough problems. Won't be able ta sit for a week."

This brought Mac's attention to the next matter at hand: pulling out. Mac did this slowly and tenderly, closing his eyes at the groan from Danny as the Italian finally released him. "I'm sorry," Mac whispered in apology as Danny shuddered, the poor man's much-abused nether muscles spasming closed.

"'s a'right," Danny whispered back, waiting for the cramping to subside.

"No, it's not all right," Mac grumbled, bending down to lick the drying semen off Danny's chest as a peace offering. "I hurt you every single time. I can't stand that."

"I know, I know," Danny soothed, laying there and letting the warm fuzz settle over his brain, the feeling that came whenever Mac just took care of him like this. "I don't mind, I promise." He opened one eye and grinned lazily. "You always make it feel better."

Mac smiled despite himself, running a careful tongue over Danny's abdomen and shrinking cock. When he looked up again, Danny's mouth was open slightly, eyes closed. Mac smiled again; just like Danny to want to roll over and fall asleep after coming. When Danny was clean-ish, Mac stood and headed to the kitchen, running warm water over more paper towels and cleaning himself off, tossing the condom in the garbage. When he came back to the living room, Danny was snoring softly.

Mac clicked his tongue at the messy puddle that had pooled beneath the younger man; Danny would need a shower. Mac could stand to take one, himself, and he could try to mop up the couch while Danny was getting himself clean. At the state the younger man was in--tired, slightly drunk, and screwed out of his mind--there was no way he'd be going to his own home tonight. He could sleep here.

Mac watched him sleep for a minute or so before heading to the bathroom, taking a much-needed piss before getting the hot water running. Typical of Marines, he was in and out of the water in less than five minutes, scrubbing a towel through his hair and then tying it around his waist. Padding back into the living room, Danny was still out, and Mac almost hated to wake him.

Danny wasn't the type to wake easily, and it took Mac a few gentle shakes before the blue eyes cracked open. "Wha...?"

"Danny, you need a shower. Come on, you're going to stick to the couch as it is."

Danny bitched and moaned at being awakened, but he knew Mac was right. With the Marine's strong arms assisting him, Danny struggled to a sitting position, wincing at the pain from his rear. Just as Mac predicted, a long ripping noise bounced around the room as Mac peeled Danny from the couch. Staggering at the good-natured abuse his nether regions had taken, Danny leaned on Mac's arm as the Marine led him to the shower.

The hot water served to wake him up a bit, and once Mac was sure the Italian wouldn't collapse, he left him there, saying that he was going to try to clean off the couch. Danny nodded, his face in the spray.

When Mac came back, he'd made reasonable progress cleaning the couch, and Danny was just toweling off. "You mind if I sleep here tonight?" Danny asked as he put the towel over his head and rubbed vigorously.

Why not, Mac wondered, and decided that it was okay. "Sure." Half-turned as he was, he nearly missed the look on the still-shrouded Danny's face: pleased surprise. Hanging their towels on the rack, Mac headed for the bedroom with a damp Italian hot on his heels. Danny stood by almost nervously, waiting until Mac moved to one side of the bed before Danny moved to the other. Mac almost wondered why the younger man seemed so apprehensive until he realized that despite all the times he'd had Danny in his bed, he'd never stayed the night. The thought niggled at him as he slipped under the covers and flicked out the lamp.

They lay on separate sides for a while, Mac facing away from Danny although he wasn't really sure why. The thought gnawed at his brain, wondering _what's wrong with this picture?_ He couldn't quite put his finger on it when Danny moved, scooting over closer to Mac and slipping an arm around his waist. Mac didn't move as Danny pressed a soft kiss in his shoulder and buried his face in Mac's neck.

"G'night, Mac," Danny whispered quietly.

Mac stared into the darkness for a few seconds. "Good night, Danny."

Mac couldn't sleep. He waited until he was sure Danny was out, then carefully disengaged himself from the Italian's clinging arms and legs. Padding silently across the bedroom floor, he slid open the closet door and looked up. Even in the dark, he knew exactly where it was, and he didn't have to see it to reach out and grasp it. Reverently he pulled it down to his chest, staring at it as his eyes slowly began adjusting to the darkness.

It was an old beach ball, cheap, but still inflated. It had only cost him a couple of bucks. At the moment, it was priceless. Not really knowing why, he cradled it protectively in one arm and stepped quietly out of the room.

In the living room, the couch still smelled like sex despite his efforts, so he took a chair off to one side. Naked, hair tousled, he sat down with the beach ball in his lap, staring into space. He stayed like that for a long time. "What should I do?" he finally whispered into the stillness.

Over the last four months, he'd cooked for Danny, drank with Danny, taken showers with Danny, fucked Danny, and now he'd slept with Danny. And yet... he remembered the "agreement" he'd made with Danny, that this was only a fling, just relieving stress and feeling good and getting those odd and socially unacceptable urges out of their systems. They wouldn't get attached to each other, they wouldn't go public, and they would _never_ disgrace the badge or the lab.

And tonight, he'd called Danny's name as he came. And now Danny was asleep in Mac's bed, and that had never happened before. Well, actually it had once, but Danny had been drunk and Mac had slept on the couch even after he'd fucked Danny through the mattress.

Mac finally looked down at the beach ball in his lap; this cheap plastic sphere that still held Claire's breath. Claire Conrad had been the other half of his soul... and some fanatical, so-called holy man had seen fit to send suicidal maniacs to crash airplanes into buildings. He closed his eyes, the pang in his chest nearly as fresh as it had been when he'd finally accepted that she was dead. They'd never even found her body in the rubble. If he concentrated, he could almost see her warm eyes and blonde hair and crooked smile, laughing and tugging on his hand as they tried to beat the rain, dashing through Central Park.

It didn't feel right, loving Danny. That popped into Mac's head, and halted his thoughts completely.

Wait, he didn't love Danny. Danny was a _guy,_ like him. But at the same time, Danny was smart and wonderful and kind and sexy and obviously loved Mac. Danny just... he just...

He wasn't Claire.

Mac bent his head, tears threatening. "What should I do?" he rasped again, hugging the colored plastic as tightly as he dared.

"You could come back to bed, for one thing." Danny's voice came quietly out of the darkness, and Mac's head popped up. It wasn't an easy thing to sneak up on Mac Taylor, but Danny had done it, and now was only a few feet away. He knelt beside the Marine, laying a hand on his arm and making damn sure to not touch the beach ball.

"Danny..." Mac lowered his head, chin resting on the ball, eyes on the floor like a petulant child. "I just-"

"I said 'don't worry 'bout it,' remember? B'sides, I know you still got some stuff to sort through. I shouldn't'a said anything." Danny stood and leaned over Mac, pressing his chest against the older man's warm back. Mac leaned into the warmth as Danny's arms slid down his shoulders, wrapping loosely and carefully around his neck. "Take as much time as ya need, Mac, but come back to bed sometime, a'right? Kinda cold in there."

Mac said nothing, just let the soothing heat seep into him, arms cradled protectively around the last bit of Claire he had.

Danny wasn't really sure what was so special about the beach ball, but it was important to Mac, and the way he was acting... the light bulb flashed in Danny's head, and he hugged Mac tighter. "I'm not tryin' to replace anybody, Mac. I just wanna feel close to somebody, ya know? Wanna stop bein' so cold at night."

Mac didn't move, and Danny had started to pull away when Mac's hand came up to grasp his arm, holding him there. The normally firm grip was now trembling, and Danny could feel the slight tremors beginning somewhere deep within the older man's center. "C'mon, Mac," Danny murmured soothingly. "C'mon, come back to bed. I ain't leavin' 'less you want me to." Mac's only answer was a definite tightening of his grip on Danny's forearm, and Danny sighed in relief.

It took some coaxing for Danny to get Mac out of the chair and back to the bedroom, Mac holding his hand like a child. Danny led him to the closet and touched Mac's arm gently, and the Marine took a last look at the beach ball before replacing it in the closet. That done, he followed Danny back to the bed, where he lay down and let the younger man cover him and wrap tight arms around him and whisper soothing things.

That did it. The floodgates opened, and Mac rolled until he lay face to face with Danny, wrapping his arms around the younger man and laying his head against the sparsely-haired chest even as Danny cradled his head and stroked his hair. Mac shook hard, gasping, sobbing in Danny's arms. Danny didn't move; he just held him and comforted him and murmured reassurances in his ear.

Eventually the tremors subsided, and Mac turned his head in order to get some fresh air. Fresh tears squeezed out of his eyes even as Danny ran fingers over his cheeks to wipe them away. He hadn't believed that Danny could be so tender, so caring... and he never would have believed that he himself would ever let anyone else see him cry, see him weak and vulnerable. A feeling of peace drifted over him as Danny bent his head to place gentle kisses on Mac's closed eyes.

"Thank you, Danny," Mac rasped, throat clogged with the usual byproducts that came from crying.

"Hey, no problem," Danny whispered back, laying another kiss on Mac's forehead. "Let's get some sleep, eh? We're both in bright and early tomorrah."

It was a good suggestion, and Mac moved to cradle his younger lover, snuggling close.

The phone was ringing.

Danny jerked awake, grumbling. He yawned and stretched, arm coming in contact with another warm body, and he suffered a moment of complete disorientation before remembering what had happened the night before.

The phone was ringing.

Danny looked over at Mac, who was only now beginning to stir from the harsh shrilling of the telephone. Danny realized that they'd rolled over during the night; now the Italian was on Mac's side, the side with the little loud plastic demons on the nightstand.

The phone was ringing.

The Italian turned and glared at it, irritated that it was trying to wake up Mac, and reached over for it. "H'lo?"

A pause. "Detective Taylor, please," a familiar voice rumbled pleasantly in his ear, and Danny froze. _Oh shit,_ he thought, _I just answered Mac's phone…_ He glanced at the clock, eyebrows to the ceiling. By a swing-shifter's definition, it was obscenely early.

"Who's callin', please?" Danny responded, trying to be polite in light of the fact that he may have just seriously screwed up. What the hell was he thinking, answering Mac's phone?

"Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Miami-Dade Crime Lab." Another pause. "Is Detective Taylor available?"

"Yeah, just a sec." Figuring it couldn't get any worse than it already had, Danny moved the receiver away from his head and turned to shake Mac's shoulder with his other hand. "Mac," he hissed. Nothing. "Mac," he tried again, shaking a little harder, and Mac finally grumbled and stirred.

"Danny…?"

"Phone. It's that Lieutenant from Miami."

"Lieutenant Caine?" Mac was instantly awake, and he spread both arms and stretched, dropping one but leaving the other out in a silent request for the phone. Danny passed it to him and scooted back, letting Mac move a bit closer to the receiver. Bedside phones didn't need a long cord. "Taylor," Mac spoke crisply into the handset, sounding as though he'd been up for hours. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I was calling to inform you that I'll be flying up to New York sometime late this afternoon. I was wondering if you wanted to sit down and catch up with each other before I'm due in court tomorrow."

Mac thought about that one. "As far as I'm aware, Lieutenant, you're not due to testify in any of my cases."

"My old cases, not yours. And it's Horatio." The voice chuckled. "My continuance has finally ran its course, so I'll be staying for at least a few days."

"I see. And call me Mac." The Marine tilted his head to one side and the other, working the kinks out of his neck. "When does your flight arrive?" Without being asked, Danny reached for the nightstand and handed Mac the pen and paper that lay in the drawer, then stood and headed for the bathroom. "All right, I'll have someone pick you up if I can't make it."

By the time Danny was done, Mac was sitting with his legs over the side of the bed, the phone in its cradle and the Marine studying the notes he'd just written. When Mac glanced up at him, blue eyes met hazel, and Danny froze.

"Hey," the Italian said nervously.

"Hey," Mac replied blandly. Neither of them moved.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"About what?"

"Me answerin' your phone like that. I just didn't want it to wake you up; I don't know what I was thinkin'."

Mac sighed and shook his shoulders, little pops sounding up and down his spine. "It's all right, Danny, just don't let it happen again."

Danny wilted a little. "Sorry, chief," he offered, and instantly wanted to kick himself. _SO_ the wrong thing to say.

Mac lifted a stern eyebrow at him. "Danny…"

"Sorry." This time it came out as almost a whimper. "I'm really sorry, Mac. Won't do it again, I swear."

Mac looked at him for a moment, then sighed. "It's okay, Danny."

Danny took this as an invitation to sit on the bed, near to but not in contact with the Marine. "Thanks for last night," he said finally, laying a cautious hand on the broad shoulder.

Mac looked at him. "Thanks for what?"

"Well, for the food. And for puttin' up with me." He sighed; this was coming out all wrong. "Thanks for lettin' me stay the night, Mac. Means a lot to me."

Silence reigned, just long enough for Danny to feel extremely uncomfortable. "Danny, it was nothing," Mac finally said patiently. "I couldn't send you home, in the state you were in."

The hand slipped from Mac's shoulder. "Yeah, nothin', right," Danny mumbled, and suddenly wished he were clothed. "I guess I, uh, better get ready for work. I'll run by my place, get a fresh set of clothes…"

"Danny, you live halfway across the city."

The Italian gave a too-casual shrug. "Eh, I got time." Not looking back, Danny stood and moved to the living room and pulled on the same clothes he'd been wearing last night. The same clothes that Mac had pulled off of him, before—

"Stop it," Danny growled to himself. Clothed, he grabbed his duffel and undid the lock and chain on the doorknob. He'd pulled the door open when the memory hit him, again. _He said my name…_ Danny shook his head to clear his thoughts, closing the door behind him, wishing it were that easy.

The cab and the subway trip seemed endlessly long to Danny. He also felt like the cabby was hitting every pothole he could find, on purpose. All that paled in comparison to what had happened that morning. He didn't want to talk about it; he didn't even want to think about it. All he wanted was to get home and change clothes.

He almost revised his opinion when he opened the door to his apartment. It was small, a bit messy, but it was _home,_ with no Mac around to impress or to disappoint. Letting his duffel drop to the floor, Danny had to fight the overwhelming urge to fall into bed fully clothed, facedown of course and with his head buried in the pillow. Just call in sick… he didn't think he had it in him to face Mac.

"Why should I worry about it," Danny snarled suddenly to the empty room. "As long as we're wearin' our badges, I'm just another CSI to him. He won't even _look_ at me unless we're off the clock." Stupid rule of Mac's, Danny thought. It was the Marine's 'failsafe,' that they wouldn't do anything to endanger their careers or embarrass the lab or disgrace the badge. Privately, Danny thought it was just Mac's way of chickening out of anything beyond sex.

Danny sighed and glanced at his watch. If he moved now, he'd still be on time for work, so he decided to just bite the bullet and get it over with. Messers didn't hide, anyway. He changed his clothes and headed out the door, back to the subway.

Mac furrowed his brow at the closed door; it wasn't like Danny to just walk out without saying goodbye like that. Maybe he was coming down with something. Glancing at the clock, he realized that it was earlier than he'd thought. He'd have plenty of time to go for a run and grab some breakfast.

He took his first shower of the day, then slipped on a t-shirt, jogging pants, and sneakers. It was a bit warm to wear the jacket that went with his pants, so he tied it around his waist. His wallet, keys, phone, and badge—but not his gun—in his pockets, he headed off on his usual three-mile run.

It surprised him, how much he was looking forward to seeing Horatio again. He'd first met the Lieutenant when he had tracked a brutal murderer—named Davy Penrod—from Miami to the Washington Heights, where he'd murdered an undercover cop. Horatio had flown from the southern tip of Florida all the way to New York to chase the man, having promised a suddenly orphaned Miami teen peace of mind.

Horatio was savvy, reliable, extremely intelligent, and an all-around damn good cop. Who knew, maybe he could help Mac figure out why Danny was acting so moody. Not that the Marine was going to _tell_ Horatio about Danny, not _that way._ Maybe just use the "someone I know" ruse. No need for Horatio to know that he, Mac, was sleeping with one of his subordinates. One of his _male_ subordinates.

Mac couldn't really word it, why he slept with Danny. Sorry, make that _screwed_ Danny. Everybody had quirks, and Danny was perfectly accepting of those quirks. Originally they'd started seeing each other in order to get those quirks out of their systems… but society's views on the relationship created almost as much stress as the sex relieved.

He thought about what had happened last night—or early that morning, depending on how you looked at it. Had that really been him? Holding Claire's beach ball, crying in Danny's arms? What in the hell had happened? Whatever it was, he didn't like it. He had to keep himself and Danny from getting too attached to each other, before it started causing problems at work. He'd be damned if he let a personal relationship disgrace the badge, or the lab.

Carefully indexing it and putting it away somewhere in the filing cabinet in his head, Mac cleared his mind and just kept running.

Hours later, Danny and Sheldon were just putting the wraps on their unusual case when Danny's cell phone rang. He managed to hide a wince when the callerID showed Mac's name, cursing silently as he flipped it open. "What's up, Mac?"

"Danny, how is your case progressing?"

"Well, me and the good Doctor here just put our guy on ice." Hearing the reference, Hawkes looked over, shrugged, and went back to the paperwork.

"Good. I need you to go pick up the Lieutenant from the airport in about an hour and a half."

"Sure thing," Danny said, sounding cheerful despite the pained look on his face. "Beats smelling like fish."

Mac chuckled. "Good job on that one, to both of you. And don't forget about Lt. Caine, Danny. He and I have dinner reservations at 6."

"Yeah. No problem." Danny's voice was flat as he and Mac hung up. Dinner reservations? Mac never took him to dinner. Granted, the Marine's cheeseburgers were hands-down the best in the city, but still…

Danny stared at the papers in front of him without really seeing them. What was he, to Mac? Honestly? A coworker with benefits? Surely not a boyfriend; that required way too much emotional effort. Danny fumed to himself, one leg twitching absently.

"Trouble in paradise?" Hawkes' smooth tones interrupted his thoughts.

Danny glanced over. "Not really somethin' I wanna bring to work, eh?"

Hawkes flicked an eyebrow, his warm brown eyes giving away nothing. "Say no more."

It took Danny a minute to realize what Hawkes had just asked, and how he'd responded. A man of Sheldon's intelligence should have no problems putting together what it meant… but when Danny flicked his eyes over, the good Doctor was still buried in paperwork. Danny's leg twitched nervously.

_Screw this,_ he thought to himself. "Later, Hawkes. I gotta pick up a guy from the airport."

"Have fun." Sheldon didn't even look up.

Danny frowned at him for a second, wondering if Mac was making him paranoid, before he stood and grabbed the papers for filing. He'd think about it later.

Horatio Caine stood in the swirling mass of people inside the airport terminal, a duffel over his shoulder and a pair of sunglasses in his hand. It hadn't been all that long since his last trip to the Five Boroughs, and he was hoping that he would actually get a chance to enjoy himself this time. Memories floated through his mind with every wave of air that filtered into the terminal, not all of them pleasant.

"Hey, Lieutenant?" The thick New York accent caught Horatio's ear, and the redhead turned to see a familiar face weaving through the tight airport crowd.

"Mr. Messer," Horatio greeted in his usual friendly growl, and Danny ducked his head. "And it's Horatio, please. I suppose you're my ride?"

"You suppose right. Call me Danny. Car's this way." Horatio nodded and slipped on his sunglasses, following the young man towards the late afternoon sunlight.

There was something about the Italian that made Horatio furrow his brow; he was walking a bit stiffly, he looked tired, and that accent… "Danny?"

"Yeah?"

There was a lot that Horatio wanted to ask, but only one way to ask it right, so he settled for, "Are you all right? You look like something's bothering you."

That could be taken in several ways, but thankfully Danny thought Horatio was referring to his mood, rather than the delicate way he was walking. "It's nothin'."

"If it were nothing, it wouldn't be bothering you, now would it?" Horatio pointed out. Silence reigned for a long time as the redhead followed the Italian through the surging crowd.

It wasn't until they reached the parking lot that Danny finally answered him. "Personal problem," he spat out.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. My, ah, other half has a real stick up the ass, ya know?"

Interesting choice of words, Horatio thought with a chuckle. "I know the feeling. Makes you feel a bit used, doesn't it?"

Danny coughed and looked at the redhead, whose face was blank and whose eyes were covered by those damn sunglasses. "Danny, you have to stand up for yourself. If you think you're getting railroaded now, just wait until the next time they walk over you, and the next time, and the time after that."

Danny stared at him for a long moment. "You're good, ya know that?"

The Miami man smiled broadly. "It's a gift."

"So," Danny said impulsively, "how am I supposed to stick up for myself if this person never gives me an opportunity? I mean, we hardly even talk, we just kinda…"

"Screw?"

The Italian cackled bitterly. "Yeah, pretty much. You know that joke, about the panda? 'Eats, shoots, and leaves?'" Horatio nodded. "Feels a lot like that, 'cept it's a different kinda shootin'."

"And I take it you're wanting a little more?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah. I just want 'em to know, I'm not just a pretty face, eh?" He sighed. "I don't know why I'm sayin' all this to ya, I mean…"

"It's perfectly all right, Danny. I know exactly what you're going through, and I have a fairly good idea of who you're talking about."

Danny stumbled, half-glanced over his shoulder.

"It's a he, isn't it? You say 'other half' and 'this person,' which in my experience is only done whenever someone doesn't want to reveal gender. And the only reason a male would do that when referring to his significant other is if that person is _also_ male." Horatio was carefully neutral, lowering his head enough to stare at Danny over the rims of his shades. "No, don't try to explain it. You are who you are, and you like what you like. No reason to try to justify it to anyone else."

Danny was feeling reckless now. "So you're okay with gay cops, then, eh?"

Horatio stopped, and Danny slowed and glanced back at him. Horatio waited until Danny had halted and turned to him before the redhead reached out and put a hand on Danny's shoulder. The hand was warm and strong, the grip understanding and reassuring. "I'm more than okay with it, Danny."

That threw him. "You… like guys, too?"

"Not exclusively. I prefer people; gender is just part of the package."

Danny smiled without really knowing why. "That's good, ya know that? I like that. I'm the same way, actually. I like a nice girl every now and then, but then guys like you come along, and I kinda forget about the girls."

"I take that as a compliment," the redhead smiled graciously, and the two began moving again. "Have I earned the right to ask you something?"

"Ask away. SUV's right over there, by the way." He glanced over. "What's up?"

Horatio thought about the best way to phrase it. Finally he just flat-out asked. "Have you told Mac how you feel? About the way he's been treating you?"

Danny tripped and nearly walked into the side of the vehicle. Righting himself, he stabbed the key into the rear hatch lock and asked, "How the hell… I mean, what makes you think it's Mac?"

"You know exactly why I think that. That was you on the phone this morning, wasn't it? At Mac's apartment." Danny went silent, and Horatio continued as he stowed his bag. "You only had to lean over to wake him, which means that you were in his bed."

"I, I—"

"Don't lie to me, Danny. You don't want to get in the car, because you don't want to sit down. He's a bit rough, isn't he?" Horatio closed the hatch and gave him another one of those piercing, over-the-shades looks.

As if to prove a point, Danny unlocked the SUV and climbed roughly into the driver's seat, maintaining a stony mask and yet unable to hide the flash of pain that crossed his face. Horatio said nothing, just climbed into the passenger seat.

Rather than start the car, they sat there in silence, until Danny finally spoke up. "How'd you know it was him?"

Horatio chuckled. "As I said, I recognized your voice, and saw the way you were walking. That, and I saw how you looked at him the last time I was up here."

Danny stared at him for a long time. "I take it back. You're not good, you're scary."

"I'm experienced, Danny. And it bothers me, the way he's been treating you. He's a good man, and so are you, and his complete and utter disregard for your feelings just—-" Horatio stopped, making an effort to relax the fists he hadn't even realized he'd made. "It reminds me of myself, not too long ago, and the person I nearly lost because of that insensitivity."

Danny chewed on that one for a while. "Another he, huh?"

Horatio ducked his head, his fair Irish heritage keeping the blush at bay. In his mind's eye, he saw a figure tangled in the redhead's bedsheets, snoring. A figure with scruffy black hair and deep brown eyes, a stubbled jaw and a voice that always sounded like he'd just rolled out of bed. "You spoke to him on the phone, when I was here working on the Spellman and Hanover murders."

"Davy Penrod, I remember that sick bastard," Danny muttered darkly. "Then, that guy I talked to, workin' with that fingerprint, that was—"

"Mm-hmm." Horatio nodded. "His name is Tim."

Danny suddenly had a new respect for the Miami CSI. "You're his supervisor, too, and you and him are…?"

"We are. For nearly six months now."

Something passed between them, something that instantly made Danny feel like he could trust this man. "I was wonderin', Lieu—I mean, Horatio."

"Yes?"

Danny took a gulp of air. "Think you could talk to Mac about him and me?"

"About what?"

"Well…" Danny sighed and lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose briefly. "I noticed that he has some, ah, issues with closeness and stuff, and he's still not really over his wife, and he respects you and all, and—-"

Horatio held up a hand. "All right, I get it. You think he needs to just sit down and talk with someone, other than you. Take some weight off his shoulders."

The New Yorker took a breath, held it, let it out. "Yeah."

The redhead eyed him for a moment. "Anything else you want me to talk to him about?"

Danny scratched the back of his head. "I'd say some things, but I figure you already know what I'd say."

"You want me to talk to him about the way he's been acting towards you. About how he treats you when you're together."

The Italian sagged into the seat. "Yeah. Think you can do it without sendin' me up a creek?"

"I think I can do that, yes." Horatio removed his sunglasses, giving Danny a good look at the shocking blue eyes, eyes that at that moment seemed to spill over with warmth and compassion. "I'm glad you came to me with this, Danny."

"I just hope I didn't royally screw up," Danny half-moaned as he finally started the engine.

"I promise that you did not, Danny. In fact, I'm sure it would be much worse if you hadn't. I've had… experience dealing with this sort of problem before."

There was just… something about the blue-eyed redhead, Danny thought, that made you feel better just by looking at him. His eyes could be angry or kind, happy or sad, but they were _honest,_ the kind of honesty that instantly made Danny want to trust him. Whatever the problem was, Horatio would take care of it. It was just the kind of person he was. Right now, Danny had a problem, and he _knew_ instinctively that Horatio knew exactly what was wrong. "Hey, thanks," he said quietly after a while.

"It's no problem at all." Horatio took a deep breath; now came the awkward part. "Danny… do you and Mac have certain… boundaries, between you? Tell me about the two of you; every bit of information helps if I'm going to handle this properly."

"What, you mean like what we do and don't like, or if it's only with each other, or if it's stuff we don't talk about, or what?" Horatio nodded at each, and Danny took a breath. "He's been on top every time, so far, and I don't know that I'd feel right tryin' to top him. We don't talk about us very much. Like I said, he's still not over Claire."

"Anything else?"

"Well… there's this one guy we work with, we've kinda talked about both of us wanting to jump him, but we don't know if he's up for it. As far as I know, it's not really a strict 'just me and him' kinda thing."

Horatio processed that. "And how would you feel if Mac slept with someone else?"

Danny blinked a bit, going stiff. "I don't really know. I mean, as long as nobody gets hurt and I know it's goin' on, I think I might be okay with it. Just as long as Mac comes back to me."

"And on the other hand, if the situations were reversed, do you think he would feel the same way if you slept with someone else, as long as he knew about it and you came back to him?"

Danny sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. "I don't know, I really don't. He doesn't let much out; that's the problem. He's still kinda mad at me for answerin' his phone this mornin'."

"Then we'll say that for now, that's a no, and you're off limits. Just to be on the safe side."

That threw Danny for a loop. "What?"

Horatio chuckled again. "Tim's the same way. As long as he knows about it and no one gets hurt, and I come home to him, he's fine if I want to spend the night with someone else. Just as long as both of us remember who we belong to."

"You…" Danny's mouth went dry. "You wanna sleep with Mac?"

"If it's all right with you. I think it will help to open his eyes." The redhead looked reassuringly at the younger man, a plan starting to form in his mind. "Just go home tonight, Danny, all right?"

"Why?"

"You'll just have to trust me. I'll deal with Mac, and I give you my word that I will not hurt him."

Danny blinked owlishly. "What are you going to do? What if things go wrong with you and Mac? What if this whole thing…" his voiced cracked, and he clenched the steering wheel tightly.

"What if this whole thing goes down the tubes?" Horatio ventured levelly. Danny swallowed and nodded. "You know what, I want you to let me worry about that right now, okay? I'll take care of it."

"Promise?" Suddenly Danny seemed small and childlike, throwing a desperate glance at Horatio and daring to hope that this would all pan out, despite the odds.

Horatio nodded. "I promise." He reached over and laid a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder.

Danny took comfort in that touch, feeling the weight hovering around his shoulders but not completely dragging him down. The Italian let out a nervous laugh, suddenly feeling better. "Nice to be able to tell somebody else, eh?"

"I know the feeling," Horatio agreed. "Now, let's discuss you and Mac."

Mac was right on time as he entered the hotel dining room. Glancing around, his gaze was drawn by the sight of a familiar redhead waving at him. Mac stepped over to the table and shook the man's hand as he rose. "Horatio, good to see you."

"And you, Mac." Horatio gestured to the table, where a white wine was already chilling and a covered breadbasket let off steam. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for you. I didn't eat much on the way up here."

Mac smiled as they sat. "Long flight, huh?"

Horatio sighed good-naturedly. "Stuck between the chatty businessman and the crying baby." Mac winced and reached for a roll.

"Can I pour you a glass of wine, Mac?" Horatio asked as he nibbled on his own bread.

Mac gave a polite shrug. "Maybe later. I don't drink very much, especially in public." Horatio nodded at that, picking up his untouched glass of ice water and moving it to Mac's side of the table. Mac gave a brief smile of thanks, taking a long drink and gasping quietly at the chill that sloshed down his throat. It was hot today.

Horatio stared intently at him. "So, how have things been since the last time I was here?"

"Everything's pretty much the same," Mac replied, and gave an enticing glance. "Danny had an interesting case this morning. Death by swordfish."

Horatio flicked his eyebrows at that. "This I have to hear."

The redhead listened intently as Mac told him the story, how the man had been impaled on the fish, then how Danny and Sheldon had had to track down the murder weapon before it became dinner. Horatio paid just as much attention to how Mac talked about Danny as he did to the story. There was no faint smile, no personal pride in the young CSI, just the intriguing oddity of the case. The Miami man sighed to himself. Probably the only person that knew Mac was sleeping with the Italian was Danny himself, and 'sleeping' was obviously a term Mac used loosely. Typical 100% closet case.

"So how is Danny?" Horatio asked casually when Mac had finished.

Mac furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? He's the one that picked you up from the airport, isn't he?"

"He was, but I wanted your opinion."

Mac smelled a trap. "I'm not sure I follow you."

Horatio decided to forge on ahead, eyes burning into Mac's. "You know what I mean, Mac. He could barely sit down. You need to be a little easier on him next time. You could end up really hurting him, give him more than just a sore rear end."

Mac went rigid, silent. Finally, "He told you."

"Or I figured it out on my own," Horatio countered levelly.

Mac's eyebrows came together, forehead tensing. "He talked to you. He told you about us."

Horatio tilted his head. "And what if he did?"

The Marine's fists clenched. "How could he—"

"Because you and I are in the same boat, my friend." The calm tone of the redhead took a bit of wind out of Mac's sails, and he stared at his guest in confusion. "Let's just say that it's not as uncommon as one may think, that a crime lab supervisor may take one of his male subordinates to bed with him."

Mac's jaw went slack. "You—"

"His name is Tim Speedle, he's my trace expert, and he's been living with me for a month and a half. We've been sleeping together for nearly six months." Horatio paused and lifted his glass, hard blue eyes boring into Mac over the rim. "I love him dearly."

Mac sputtered as Horatio took a casual drink and set the glass back down, toying with it. After a while, the Marine tired of trying to come up with a good explanation and took another drink of his water, idly wondering where the food was.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" Horatio's voice was deceptively calm, but Mac saw through it.

"I don't need your advice, Horatio."

"Don't you? Mac, I've only once seen a young man that bitter, and I didn't realize how much he meant to me until I nearly lost him."

"Your trace expert?" the Marine asked dryly, arching a brow and buttering another roll.

Horatio nodded sadly; it still depressed him. "He's been shot twice, in the line of duty… both times, right in front of my eyes. It's a miracle he lived through the second shooting." Mac noted the faraway look in the redhead's crystal blue eyes as he took a long swig of his wine. Suddenly Horatio set the glass down, reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out a long leather thong with a silver ring tied to it. "This ring is sized for Tim's finger, and he wears one sized for mine. The only times we wear them on our fingers is when we're at home, together." He looked at it for a long time before slipping it back under his shirt.

"So, how many people know about you and… Tim, was it?" Mac asked, humoring him. At the same time, seeing such a look in Horatio's eyes bothered him. The haunted look of a man who had nearly seen the death of someone he loved.

"It's Tim. Since you're probably referring to 'how many people at work know about us,' honestly, it's not that many. We keep our work lives and our private lives separate. Now, a few may suspect something at work, but the only people that we've confirmed to being a couple to are those at a certain club we frequent."

Mac stared incredulously at him. "You two go out together? As a couple?"

"As I said, only to a certain club, where we're met by people of similar, ah, persuasions."

Mac drummed his fingers on the table. "I'll bite. What kind of club?"

"The kind of club where you're on one end or the other of a short leather leash and a long leather bullwhip."

Mac blinked, shell-shocked. It may have been all these startling secrets being hurled at him, but he was starting to feel a little light-headed. And where was the food?

"It's actually rather liberating," Horatio said calmly, watching Mac put his elbow on the table, lean his head in his hand. "To be in such a club, I mean. To just enjoy the acts in a safe and controlled environment. Tim gets jealous that I get asked to top others so often."

Mac couldn't believe he was hearing this. He also felt like his head weighed a thousand pounds as he took another shaky drink of water.

"You all right, Mac? You don't look so good."

Mac's eyes were unfocused. "I… I don't know."

"Tell you what, we'll get you up to my hotel room for a while, all right? Let you lay down, get whatever it is out of your system." Mac didn't have the energy to protest as Horatio moved to him, helping up.

A waiter walked up to him. "Sir, is everything all right?"

"He just had a little too much to drink," Horatio said casually. "I'll be taking him back up to his room, number 725? Please have the wine sent up there, as well." He and Mac began shuffling to the elevator, the Marine being too out of it to notice a strange man catch Horatio's eye, who nodded slyly, and the man slid to Mac's other side and supported him as the bell dinged and the doors opened.

The brushed steel doors closing on the lobby were the last things Mac saw before everything went dark.

When Mac came to, it was slowly, like he was gradually slipping out of a deep sleep. He was warm, and at the same time, a cool breeze washed over bare skin.

Wait, bare skin?

Slowly his eyes opened, fighting what he soon recognized to be a sedative. It was dark, wherever he was. No, make that dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the tabletop lamps sitting on available surfaces. He was in the bedroom of a hotel, with the bed behind him and a chair and table in front of him. It was Horatio's hotel room, he realized, recognizing a dress jacket draped over the chair, the Miami-Dade police badge clipped prominently to the breast pocket. It was then that he realized two things: he was half-naked, and he was tied up.

A gamut of thoughts flooded through his head, but he forced them down, taking stock of his situation. His wrists were locked in soft leather cuffs, lifted straight above his head, from both of which trailed a gleaming metal chain that reached up to the ceiling, where he noticed some sort of box into which the chains fed. At the top of the box, the chain was wrapped around one of the beams of the ceiling.

Another draft brought his attention to the fact that he'd been stripped of everything but his pants, boxers, and dog tags. The carpet was soft and plush under his feet, and he realized with some surprise that although his weight had been dangling completely from the restraints, they hadn't hindered circulation in the slightest. Mac froze as he realized that his gun and shield were missing from his belt, and his eyes drifted around, finally spotting them on a dresser next to the Marine's keys, wallet, and phone.

Now that he knew where he was and what state he was in, he was free to ponder what Horatio had in store for him. Was he going to be raped? Beaten? Killed? No, that didn't seem like Horatio's style. He knew the man to be a good cop, so Mac honestly had no idea what the redhead had planned. All he could do was wait.

Which wasn't long. Presently he heard a toilet flush, and the bathroom door opened. Horatio stepped out, and Mac's jaw dropped.

Like him, Horatio was barefoot and shirtless, except instead of dog tags, Tim's ring hung from the leather thong around his neck, framed by the sparse red curls and small dirt-brown nipples. Unlike Mac, who was still in his dress pants, Horatio was wearing something that looked more like jogging pants, burgundy with a white stripe down each leg, with metal snaps clearly visible down both legs. Designed to allow the wearer to peel them right off, Mac noted. The redhead's hair was damp, just showered. The biggest difference, in Mac's eyes, was a dark strip of cloth binding the man's wrists, giving him about two feet of reach between hands.

"Horatio?" Mac asked carefully. The man seemed lucid, but you could never be too sure. "What's going on?"

The slim Irishman tilted his head. "Oh, I'm just going to have a little fun at your expense," he said cheerfully. _If this guy's crazy, he's doing a very good job of hiding it,_ Mac thought.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Horatio burst out laughing. "Of course not, Mac. I won't do anything to hurt you."

"So why the restraints?"

"Because it's more fun that way, sometimes." Horatio looked at him calmly, giving a small shrug.

Mac shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "I feel dizzy, thick-headed."

"Well, considering that I slipped something into your water, that doesn't surprise me."

Mac's jaw dropped, anger turning his eyes nearly black. "You _drugged_ me?!"

Horatio shrugged again. "More or less. Flunitrazepam, more commonly known as Rohypnol. Not enough to put you down for very long, considering your health and body mass." He stepped to the nearby table and lifted a glass of wine, taking a small sip. Casually he flicked his blue eyes to his captive, who tested his bonds and glared at him. "You won't be able to break those."

Mac stilled, beaten but not broken. "So what are you going to do to me?" he snarled.

"Nothing you don't want me to," Horatio replied, and Mac's brow furrowed. "I'm not a rapist, Mac, and I'm not a kidnapper. Any time you want me to stop, I will."

"So… what is this, exactly?"

"Call it an assisted epiphany." Horatio stepped over to the window, peering unconcernedly through the curtains. "I'm going to show you exactly what you've been doing to Danny."

"Which is?"

Horatio's face darkened as he turned and set the wineglass down. Stepping over to the captive Marine, he glared at him before lifting his arms and whipping his cloth restraint behind the man's neck, jerking his head forward until their foreheads nearly touched. "You've been _using_ him, Mac."

Mac started to stutter an angry reply when Horatio twitched his wrists, jolting Mac's head slightly and silencing him.

"You've taken from him what you've wanted, and given him nothing in return, and _all_ he wants to do is love you. You're _using_ him, and you know it." Horatio's growl matched his gaze, and Mac fell silent. "So I am going to do the same to you. Danny told me that you've always been on top, but that will be different here. I am going to top you, Mac. I'm going to open your eyes to what Danny feels, and help you figure out what you really want."

Mac only looked at him, sullen and angry, and Horatio slipped his wrists back over Mac's head to release him. It was when Horatio moved back to his wineglass that Mac spoke up. "Do I have a choice?" he asked with no small amount of sarcasm, and Horatio chuckled.

"You always have a choice, Mac. In fact, in a few minutes I will give you a choice. I will ask a question to which you will respond 'yes' or 'no.' I will let you hear your options before you decide." He took a sip and settled on the chair, watching him. "I will ask you if you want to stay. If you say yes, then I will give you my word that I will stop whenever you want me to, I won't do anything unless you want it, and I won't hurt you. I'll just give you an experience that you will never forget."

Mac considered that. "And if I say no?"

"Then I will release your restraints, keep you company until the drugs wear off, and I will take you home."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. It's not about domination and controlling someone else, Mac. It's about trust, and controlling _yourself._"

Mac was silent.

"Now, I ask you: Do you want this?"

The Marine's face was hesitant. "Tell me more, first."

Horatio shook his head. "That wasn't what I asked you, Mac. Yes or no?"

Mac thought hard. He thought about Danny and what Horatio had said, and he thought about the situation he was in right now, and Horatio's offer. And finally he said, "Yes."

Horatio smiled. "I thought so." He took another sip of wine and set it back down, rising. "First, we will learn about trust." He moved to a nearby duffel bag that Mac hadn't noticed and began rummaging through it, talking as he did so. "Do you and Danny have a safeword?"

Mac's brow furrowed.

Horatio's mouth twitched disapprovingly before he explained. "A safeword is a method of ensuring that no given scene will go past a participant's comfort level. Some people like the idea of a struggle, of fighting back, so relying just on the word 'stop' would only confuse some tops. A safeword is a guarantee: any time you say it, I will stop what I am doing instantly, I will release you, and I will take you home."

"Why did you ask if Danny and I had one? We don't do any of this, with restraints and chains."

"It's something everyone should have. Judging by the way Danny was walking, you can be pretty rough, Mac, and he _needs_ to be able to stop you." Finding what he was looking for in the bag, Horatio stood and moved back over to his captive-turned-student. "You're bigger than he is, Mac. You're stronger. It's a safe wager that you're unaware of your actions when you hit a certain point in a session, am I right? He needs to be able to at least bring your attention to the fact that he isn't comfortable with what you're doing."

"He's never asked me to stop, before, and he's never complained about it afterward."

Horatio's voice took on a hint of bitterness. "Would you stop, Mac, if he asked you to? And why would he ask you to stop, when he walks on eggshells wondering if the slightest screwup will finally make you kick him out? He puts up with it because he's scared of you leaving him, and that's _not_ healthy."

Mac considered that for a while. "I guess I have been pretty rough on him," he admitted finally.

"Yes you have, and not just physically, either. You fuck him and then send him home? That's not a relationship, Mac, that's just cruel."

The brunette's shoulders sagged as much as his bonds would allow. "You're right, you're absolutely right."

Horatio regarded him for a moment, then stepped past him to the bed. Restrained as he was, Mac realized that he couldn't turn all the way around. He couldn't see the redhead, and that bothered him. "Relax, Mac," the comforting growl came from behind him. "For your first lesson, I will give you your safeword, and that is the word 'safeword.' Say it, and I'll stop whatever I'm doing."

Mac tilted his head. "'Safeword?'"

"Mm-hmm. Now are you just making sure you have it right, or do you honestly want to stop?"

"Oh, no, I was just making sure I had it right."

"Good. You can come up with a more creative one later, but for now it will be the word that I will respond to. Now," and here he moved back into Mac's field of vision, hands empty. "We'll start with something easy."

Mac watched as the redhead poured some wine into an empty wineglass and brought it over to him. "Mac, I am going to hold the wineglass while you drink from it. You will trust me, that I will not try to choke you or drown you and that I will watch you and make sure that you're comfortable. Don't move your head or your mouth; all you have to do is swallow. If you're having trouble, jerk your head back. All right?"

Mac nodded; seemed simple enough.

Horatio reached one hand up, gently grasping Mac's chin. Stepping slightly to one side, the redhead's other hand brought the glass to Mac's lips. The glass tilted, and the chill liquid rushed into the Marine's mouth. He swallowed a sip, realized that he was getting even more, swallowed harder, and began to panic. It seemed silly in retrospect—drowning in a wineglass, _my GOD_—but instinct was kicking in and Mac knew that he had absolutely no control over the situation. He swallowed more, faster, and got a big air bubble to go along with it.

"Easy, Mac," Horatio half-growled, half-soothed. "I didn't think you wanted to get drunk." With that, the redhead eased the tilt of the glass, and Mac was able to take comfortable sips. "Breathe. Take it slow."

Soon Mac drained the glass, and Horatio stepped back. "Not bad. I apologize for going a bit fast at the start. Want to try again?"

"Give me a minute. Like you said, I'm not out to get drunk."

"A minute you may have, but I insist that we do this again until I get it right. A good top knows his sub's limits and how to predict his reactions, and I want you to enjoy this."

Mac eyed him levelly. "You take this whole thing seriously, don't you?"

"I do." Horatio paused to pour Mac another glass of wine. "Because this situation with you and Danny has touched a nerve. You see… Tim and I were the same way, in the beginning. Just having sex for the pure hell of it, then going our separate ways."

"So what changed?"

"That," Horatio said with a tight smile, "is between me and Tim." He stepped back over, bringing the wineglass. "Ready?" At Mac's nod, the redhead raised the glass again. This time the process was easy, and Mac began to relax and simply sip, trusting his teacher to take care of him.

"You're a fast learner, Mac. You're starting to understand what it really means, to trust someone."

Mac gave him a lopsided grin. "So what's next, ball gags and floggers?"

Horatio laughed. "I don't think you're ready for that, yet. No, you're going to have one more glass of wine."

Something ticked in Mac's brain. "Why are you insisting on getting me drunk? You trying to get me to loosen up?"

"So to speak. I want you to relax mentally as well as physically." There was something Horatio wasn't telling him, but before he could ask the redhead just repeated, "Trust me, Mac."

Mac sighed and they repeated the exercise, the Marine downing the entire glass without incident.

"So now what?" Mac asked as Horatio set the glass back on the table. A faint fuzzy feeling was beginning to spread through his brain, bringing a small measure of calm and comfort with it.

"Now that we've established a small measure of trust between us, I'm going to learn what makes you tick." The redhead stepped slowly over to him, putting hands on his shoulders. "Anything you want me to know about you, or are you going to make me find out for myself?"

"Didn't Danny tell you everything?" Mac asked with a small amount of sarcasm.

Horatio eyed him calmly. "Danny told me many things, but firsthand experience is far more valuable." He reached out and tweaked a nipple on Mac's chest; other than a startled twitch, there was no response. "Not much feeling in those, is there?"

Mac gave a small shake of his head.

"How about here?" The hand on Mac's smooth chest moved up, the thumb ghosting lightly over the scar just below the Marine's left clavicle, and Mac twitched again. Horatio tilted his head. "It's not as sensitive as you think it is, Mac. Scar tissue rarely is. You only think it's sensitive because it's also an emotional wound, and a place rarely touched even by your own hand." He leaned forward and pressed a tongue into the patch of pale flesh, and Mac couldn't stop a groan.

Horatio laved the ragged flesh with his tongue, hands moving smoothly up the muscular shoulders, the knotted upraised arms, and back down to the rock-hard stomach. Mac had taken good care of himself since leaving the Corps, Horatio decided, letting his hands slide to the Marine's lower back and stepping forward, pressing their chests together and letting his tongue run along the collarbone, up the side of the neck, pausing just below the earlobe. Warm lips ghosted along Mac's jaw, Horatio opening his eyes long enough to gauge Mac's reaction. The Marine's hazel eyes were closed, mouth open slightly, breaths an easy sussuss in the redhead's ear. The broad hands, raised above Mac's head and locked in those cuffs, hung limply.

Horatio leaned forward, capturing Mac's earlobe in his lips, feeling one of the muscular legs give a small twitch. "You like this, don't you?" Horatio murmured, hot breath tickling Mac's ear, and Mac let out a quiet sigh. Mac's ear was between the redhead's teeth, chewing and nibbling without biting down, and Mac's leg twitched again.

"Do you like this?" One of Horatio's hands slid slowly down the firm chest, ghosting over the navel and whispering over the Marine's cloth-covered cock before suddenly grabbing roughly, and Mac hissed. "Hmm? How is that, Mac?"

"Oh, God…" Mac whispered, hips bucking unconsciously as that hand bullied his cock into stiffening, wincing as his pants seemed to grow tighter by the second. Due to Horatio's little cloth strip, one of the redhead's hands rested on the Marine's sensitive hip while the other casually molested Mac's trapped sex.

"Want your pants, off, Mac?"

Mac bit his lip, nodded. That hadn't been the response Horatio had been wanting, but it would do, and now both of the slim hands worked at Mac's belt, popping the button and sliding the zipper down. The hands tugged at the pants, pulling them down, and Mac stepped out of them without being asked. The hands returned, this time grasping the seam of his boxers, and again Mac stepped out of them once they'd gone all the way down to his feet.

A warm pair of lips pressed against Mac's left knee, both hands on the Marine's calves as the lips traveled slowly up the thin curls on Mac's legs. The lips stopped at the inner thigh, and Mac gave a hiss of frustration, spreading his legs invitingly. Horatio didn't move, though, nipping and tugging gently at the sensitive area, and Mac groaned as the lips pressed firmly down, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

The lips released after a time, and hot breath wafted over Mac's aching erection. "Wow," came Horatio's voice, and Mac opened his eyes and looked down, seeing Horatio on his knees and eyeing the throbbing shaft. "Danny wasn't joking." He leaned forward, and Mac turned his hips slightly in order to line them up, but Horatio suddenly ducked the other way, mouth latching onto Mac's hipbone, and Mac hissed his frustration through his teeth. Horatio's hands had moved up, both resting on the backs of Mac's thighs and just below the curve of his ass, the touch both gentle and firm.

Horatio didn't mark him again, but let his lips travel slowly up and around to Mac's navel, tongue dipping briefly in before rising more, Horatio rising to his feet as the lips traveled casually up, up until they found Mac's collarbone, and the lips left Mac's chest and kept going up, and Mac craned his neck and captured those maddening lips with his own.

Horatio captured him back, his mouth commanding the kiss, forceful without being too demanding, and Mac parted his jaws enough for the redhead's tongue to slip through, sliding along the teeth, and Mac opened wider, his own tongue meeting that of Horatio's, dueling for control, and Mac couldn't stop a groan.

Horatio was _good._

Mac trembled as the pale hands ran smoothly up his sides, down his back, touching here and stroking there, learning his body. Little spots began to dance behind his eyelids, and he broke the kiss and reared his head back, but he only got a lungful before Horatio whipped the cloth behind his neck again, tugging him forward again, thrusting his tongue in Mac's still-open mouth. This time, his hands began threading through Mac's hair, and the redhead stepped forward enough to bump against Mac's straining erection, and Mac's nose whistled with a close-mouthed gasp.

Horatio still didn't release him, standing on his toes and inching forward until Mac's cock found its way between the legs of the redhead's jogging pants, the obvious bulge there sending shivers down Mac's spine. When Horatio began rocking his hips back and forth, stroking Mac with little swishing noises, the sensations and the lack of oxygen made the Marine utterly giddy.

Finally Horatio broke the kiss and let them breathe, Mac's head spinning and his cock still nestled between the redhead's thighs. "Did you like that, Mac?" Horatio whispered in his ear, and Mac could only blink and try to process what had just happened. All that from just a kiss, and those pants on his cock?

"What else should I do to you?" Horatio mused, eyeing him neutrally, and Mac found himself lost in those incredible blue eyes. He almost didn't hear Horatio as he leaned forward until their noses nearly touched. "Maybe," the redhead started innocently, "maybe I should suck on your cock."

Mac's jaw slackened, eyes darkening further with arousal. Horatio noticed, gave a sultry smile, and pressed another kiss on Mac's lips. Mac's eyes closed, enjoying the soft touch that was so different from the mind-bending assault from earlier, but all too soon Horatio's lips left his, picking up where they'd left off on his collarbone.

Even though he knew they wouldn't do much, Horatio paused on his descent long enough to suckle first one nipple, then the other on Mac's solid chest, and Mac's breath hitched anyway. Horatio paused, one eyebrow raised. "I thought nipples didn't do anything for you."

It took Mac a moment to find his voice. "They don't do much… but just watching you do that…"

Horatio gave a dark smile. "So you like to watch, do you?" His lips reattached themselves to Mac's nipple without waiting for a response, and the Marine jumped.

Finally Horatio abandoned the hardened buds, sliding down until he found Mac's navel, and this time he took extra time licking, sucking, and tonguing the tiny orifice, and Mac couldn't stop a shiver. Smiling into Mac's belly, Horatio half-stood, still half-bent and licking Mac's stomach, and at that angle Tim's ring followed gravity and hung forward, and Horatio hunched his shoulders until the cool metal touched the head of Mac's straining erection, and Mac hissed.

Horatio exploited that until Mac was squirming, and eventually he pulled back and sank to his knees, mere inches from the bulging near-purple head. Raising his hands, he placed them on Mac's hips to hold him still, and leaned in enough to blow hot air on the straining flesh, and Mac groaned. His pelvis twitched despite the gentle hands, and Horatio finally took pity on him, pursing his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the slit, and Mac moaned unabashedly.

Inwardly Horatio was surprised at Mac's responsiveness considering the man's nature, before chalking it up to the alcohol and to the fact that he was being teased to within an inch of his life. He opened his lips a bit more, letting Mac slide slowly into his mouth, and the Marine gave another shuddering moan.

Mac's hazel eyes rolled back into his head as Horatio took every inch of him, the redhead's nose tickling Mac's pubic hair. "Jesus, God," Mac groaned, shuddering as Horatio leaned back before stretching his neck forward again, face buried against Mac's flesh.

Horatio gave a satisfied moan around Mac's length, the vibrations making the Marine's foot twitch. Not only did Horatio give damn good head, but he also *enjoyed* it, enjoyed the noises he was pulling from the panting Marine, and the thought made Mac's toes curl. No matter their positions, no matter that Horatio was on his knees with Mac's dick halfway down his throat, Mac knew that Horatio was still in complete control of the situation.

Mac found himself thrusting into that hot mouth, Horatio welcoming him. At first Mac was worried about suffocating the redhead, but Horatio was good, taking half-breaths on Mac's every outstroke, and Mac saw that Horatio had it under control, and Mac proceeded to rape the redhead's face, wishing he could run his fingers through that fiery hair.

When Horatio looked up at him, blue eyes locked onto Mac's hazel ones as they bobbed over Mac's throbbing hardness, Mac felt his balls draw up and tighten, and he was staring into those eyes as his thrusts sped up and he gave a strangled groan as he came hard, Horatio's nose pressed flat against Mac's thin pubic curls, the hot seed sliding down into that welcoming warmth in Horatio's throat.

Mac sagged into his restraints as Horatio milked every last drop, swallowing around his softening length, and Mac's legs shook as he felt that eager tongue cleaning his flesh, finally pulling away. Horatio looked up at him and licked his lips, and Mac could only give a tired sigh and say, "Thank you, Horatio." He caught his breath. "Mind if I lay down for a while now?"

"Oh, I think I'll leave you there, if it's all the same to you."

Mac blinked. "I'd really like to lay down now."

"Why? I'm not finished with you yet." Horatio stood slowly, wiping his mouth on his wrist.

Mac stared at him. "I could call safeword," he challenged.

"Yes, you could, but I had you figured for being able to last longer than one blowjob." Horatio managed to work a pout into his tone, staring at Mac with those big blue eyes, and for a second Mac was reminded of Danny, gazing up at him with those mournful baby blues, and Mac sighed.

"Maybe I'll stick around after all," he relented, and Horatio's pout disappeared.

"Good. Would you like another drink?"

Mac nodded that he would, and Horatio stood to get it. Once again he held the glass while Mac drank from it, and that warmed Mac more than anything; just standing there, letting Horatio do all the work and just take care of him.

"Now, Mac," Horatio began as Mac finished the wine and the redhead had set it aside, "are you ready to become Danny?"

Mac furrowed his brows. "How do you mean?"

For an answer, Horatio moved back over to his bag of toys, reaching inside and pulling out a red cylinder. His smile was devious as he strode over to his captive, holding the tube so Mac could read the writing.

"'Clone-a-Willy,'" Mac read aloud, "'Create an exact replica of your…' oh, you can't possibly be serious."

"But I am," Horatio responded. If his look had been devious before, he was now all but rubbing his hands together and cackling. "I told you, I'm going to show you exactly what Danny has been going through, and that includes being on the receiving end of that cudgel you call a penis."

Mac blinked, mouth moving. Finally he managed "I can't believe they actually make something like that."

Horatio sneered. "Mac, if you've thought of it, it's already on the market and comes in several different colors." He moved over to the table, uncapping the tube and removing the contents. Muttering to himself, he read the tube and moved to the bar area, scrounging around until he found a good-sized plastic cup. Filling it with a bit of water, he carefully opened one of the pouches from the tube and poured the powder into the water, mixing thoroughly with a plastic spoon he'd found. When it was properly dissolved, he poured the mixture into the tube and strode over to Mac.

Carelessly Horatio grabbed Mac's dick with his free hand, stroking, and Mac's eyes half-closed before the Marine forced them back open. "I'm not doing this," he growled.

"Then call safeword." Horatio's tone gave the challenge. When Mac didn't reply, the redhead suddenly dropped to his knees and took the Marine deep into his mouth. Mac gave a startled groan as his erection roared back to life at Horatio's expert ministrations. The redhead had been toying with him earlier; now he was all business, and his goal was swiftly coming to fruition. When Mac was squirming, Horatio released him and leaned back, aligning the tube and its squishy contents with Mac's length. Mac tried to buck backwards but it was too late, and suddenly he was engulfed in what felt like icy mud.

Mac yelped at the cold. "How the hell do you expect me to stay hard for this?" he demanded, when Horatio merely tilted his head and flicked a tiny switch on the bottom of the tube. Mac yelped again as the clammy goop began vibrating around his cock. "You gotta be kidding me," the Marine grumbled even as he tilted his head back, eyes closed.

"Oh, this is only the beginning," Horatio leered at him before turning his eyes to his wristwatch. All Mac could do was stand there with slowly warming sludge vibrating around his length, and eventually his hips started to twitch. All too soon, Horatio slowly and carefully slid the tube away from Mac. Biting his lip at the loss of stimulation—and pleasantly surprised to not see any remnants of the muck clinging to him—Mac could only watch in curiosity as Horatio moved back to the table.

Tearing open the second pouch, Horatio poured tan-colored syrupy goo into the tube, then picked up a smaller ivory cylinder and positioned it carefully in the middle. "Is that what I think it is?" Mac said cautiously.

"If you think it's a vibrator, you're correct," Horatio said with a dark smile, and the smile grew when he noticed Mac's natural length give a twitch. Horatio stared at the tube, intent on his work and glancing at his wristwatch, Mac watching with a scientist's natural curiosity. Finally Horatio nodded to himself, grasping the knob that was the vibrator's speed control with one hand and the tube with the other, pulling slowly.

Mac couldn't believe his eyes; in the redhead's hand was a perfect replica of the Marine's erect dick, right down to the pattern of veins. Horatio stepped over, holding it so Mac could get a good look. "That's incredible," he whispered.

"It's Latex-based, actually."

"Really."

He was stalling, and Horatio knew it. Mac had never really given thought to how big he was. One of the little oddities of life, the redhead thought. He'd seen slim men with slim dicks, short men with short dicks, rake-thin men with very tall dicks, and now here was Mac, roughly 5'9" with a six-point-five inch dick, one that had to be at least two inches in diameter. A powerfully-built man with a powerfully-built cock.**

"It looks bigger up close, doesn't it?" Horatio said with a chuckle, turning it this way and that.

"It does," Mac admitted. The closer it got to his mouth, the more he wanted to rear his head back.

"Mac, how tall is Danny? 5'8", maybe?"

"Sounds about right. Just an inch or so shorter than I am."

Horatio held the rubber dick right in Mac's face. "And he takes every inch of this every time you fuck him."

Mac blinked. "And now you're going to make me take it, too."

Horatio chuckled. "Mac, I'm not _making_ you do anything. You're here of your own free will, remember? Trust me, if I was topping you with the proper equipment, in a proper club, and you'd been properly trained as a sub, you wouldn't even be making eye contact with me without my permission. And you would be calling me 'Master.'" He lowered the toy, stepping close and using his three-inch height advantage over the Marine to its fullest. "Do you want me to completely dominate you? Or do you want me to continue as we have been, as a favor from one friend to another for the sake of healthy bodies and healthy relationships?"

Mac stared at him. "People call you Master?"

Horatio ducked his head. "I take it you _don't_ want me to dominate you, then. Shame, with that body and with your experience with following orders," and here he let his gaze run over Mac's exposed flesh like a man eying a horse for sale, "you would make a _fine_ slave."

The redhead had to fight back a smile at the look that crossed Mac's face. "I'm good, thanks."

"So," Horatio began almost conversationally, "let's give you a good hard fucking." Mac blinked as Horatio simply looked at him, considering, judging him. "And I think I know the best way to do it."

Mac watched as Horatio brought his right hand to his left wrist, fiddling with something, and the dark cloth slipped away from the skin. He repeated the process with his right, and suddenly the redhead was holding the long strip in his hands. "Mac, I think I'll blindfold you."

Mac's mouth went dry. "That's okay, I'm fine."

"No, no, I think this next scene will work out better if you can't see what's coming." Horatio lifted the cloth, aiming for Mac's head. Mac twitched to one side or the other, but the redhead stayed with him, waiting for that moment when the Marine was still. Finally the moment came and Horatio's wrists snapped forward, until Mac ducked around it. "Hold still," Horatio growled, trying again.

"Hey!" Mac protested as he tossed his head, trying to prevent the inevitable. Finally Horatio stood back and glared at him, hands on his hips.

"Mac, how many times must I tell you?" he chided gently. "I. Will. Not. Hurt. You. If you want out, all you have to do is call safeword, remember?"

"I know, I just… I hate being blindfolded."

"Oh?" Horatio cocked his head. "When was the last time someone blindfolded you?"

Mac's mouth opened but no sound came out. Honestly he'd never been blindfolded before, but he knew instinctively that he hated it. "Trust me, Mac," Horatio repeated. "I truly think you'll like it, at least for this particular scene. If it distracts you too much, I'll take it off."

Mac grumbled, but finally ducked his head, allowing Horatio to wrap the dark cloth around his head, tying it in the back.

The moment Horatio's hands left the knot, Mac took a deep breath. He'd been restrained, and now he couldn't see, and he fought down the wave of panic that swept him. No, not panic: discomfort. At least when he hadn't been blindfolded, he'd been able to see what was coming. But now…

A hand ghosted across his chest, and he jumped. "You all right, Mac?"

"Yeah," Mac licked his lips nervously. "Just give me a second."

The hand stayed on his chest, sliding around to the side, so that Mac still had an idea of where Horatio was as the redhead fished on the bed for something. "I want you to do something for me, Mac."

Mac snorted. "Yeah? And exactly what can this restrained, blindfolded man do for you?"

He heard Horatio snort back, a small rattling noise indicating that batteries were being slid inside something plastic. "I'd like you to warm this up for me, please." Mac's brows furrowed, the Marine trying ineffectually to see around the blindfold, when something hard touched his lips. Hard, and rubbery, and tasted like… Latex.

"Now, Mac, I know that you're going to think it's bigger than it is, and you're probably going to have a hard time breathing until you get used to it," Horatio's voice purred in his ear. "So what I want you to do is, if I'm going too deep or you need a break, stomp your foot. All right?"

Mac nodded, and the rubber toy nudged his lips again. Taking a deep breath, he opened his lips, letting the tip slide in. He blinked ineffectually, licking his lips, moistening the surface. Dear God, this thing was huge. Was this really him?

When he'd finally gotten the head in his mouth, Horatio held it there for a moment, letting Mac get used to the width. Mac breathed hard through his nose, face twitching. Finally he lifted his foot, stomping once. The rubber dick made a popping noise as it left his mouth. "Everything all right?" Horatio inquired.

"That… that can't be mine."

"Oh, but it is." Horatio nudged the toy against Mac's cheek. "Want to try again? After all, Danny says that you give one hell of a blowjob. Maybe I can learn a few tricks."

"After the one you gave me? I—mrrf." Mac found his words suddenly cut off by the presence of the replica nudging into his mouth. He made little growling noises; the muffled sounds which Horatio could've sworn gave a challenging "I'll show you."

Horatio held the dildo still, watching as Mac stretched his head out, taking more and more, licking and sucking. There was something about having a dick in his mouth, even a fake one, that flicked a switch in Mac's brain. He knew he gave good blowjobs; he was proud of it, in fact. He liked to give Danny blowjobs not because he enjoyed pleasuring the man, but because he enjoyed the noises he made. And besides, Mac enjoyed doing things that he was good at.

There was a difference between enjoying something and enjoying being good at something. So now here he was, blindfolded, restrained, sucking on a stiff cock that had no body behind it, nobody he could pull a moan from, and for some reason… he liked it. It was a primitive urge, to want to suck on things, dating back to every human's first breaths in the world.

Mac found himself getting aroused once again, working his tongue and lips around the rubber rod. Horatio pulled it back a little, and Mac went after it, so Horatio gave some of it back to him. Horatio pulled the toy back and forth, a distance of roughly two inches either way, simulating a man thrusting into Mac's mouth. To the surprise of both men, Mac moaned around the length.

"You like that, Mac?" Horatio murmured. "You like to suck cocks, don't you? More than you want to admit." Mac could only give a muffled groan; this whole night was screwy, so why not just give in to it?

"Now how about I give you something else to moan about?" Horatio purred in his ear, and Mac felt a hand slide down to rest on one finely muscled asscheek. Mac's hips twitched involuntarily as one finger—wet, Mac noticed—laid itself gently against the tight wrinkled ring of Mac's anus, and the Marine twitched again.

"I'll bet that it's been a while since you let another man fuck you," Horatio said enticingly in Mac's ear, that finger pushing gently against the guardian muscle, and Mac surprised himself by pushing his hips back. "Oh, you want it, don't you? I'll have to take extra time to loosen you up; that's quite a large cock you're about to be taking." The finger pressed some more, and Mac consciously made the muscles relax enough for the digit to slip inside.

It had been a long time since Mac had let someone else top him, and as the invading finger pushed slowly inside him, Mac began to wonder why he'd stopped. The finger twisted and curled, searching, and subconsciously Mac doubled his efforts on the rubber dick as Horatio's finger neared that one spot… right… _there!_ The finger brushed against Mac's prostate, and the Marine's entire body jerked, the dildo sliding almost completely into his mouth.

"Is that it, Mac? Did I find it?" Horatio gave a dark chuckle in the brunette's ear as he pressed against the sweet spot again, and Mac gave a muffled moan, pressing backwards, inviting the finger deeper inside. "You want some more?" Mac felt a second finger pressing against his entrance, and under the blindfold Mac's hazel eyes rolled back into his head.

Mac controlled his wince as the fingers began scissoring, stretching and pulling his sphincter, opening him. "Easy, Mac," Horatio soothed. "You know that there's a lot more where that came from. I may have to do four fingers, as thick as that is." Mac swallowed, the reflex having less to do with the rubber rod in his mouth than with dreading what was coming. "Easy," Horatio soothed again, brushing against the Marine's prostate again. "Easy, don't think about it. They say that 'the anticipation of pain is far worse than the pain itself.'"

Mac gave a small nod at that, groaning for more than one reason as a third finger wormed its way in, and Mac busied himself with the toy in his mouth. The feeling of being stretched, of all the pressure against that hot spot, was making Mac more than hard and he found himself starting to push back against those fingers. "Adjusting already?" Horatio said with a dark chuckle. "Almost there, I'm going to go ahead and do the last finger, just in case. Easy, here it comes…" and Mac felt that last digit invade him, and his body trembled.

He slowed his subconscious thrusts, relaxing himself as much as he could, fighting back sudden stinging tears as that ultra-sensitive muscle was stretched, feeling little ripping sensations as parts of him were stretched more than others, and finally Horatio's four fingers were buried almost to the knuckles. "Easy, Mac, I'm not going in any farther. You're here for a fucking, not a fisting. Easy," Horatio's voice calmed him even as the fingers slowly began moving and twisting, finding the Marine's prostate again.

"Now, here comes the fun part." Horatio pulled the rubber dick from Mac's lips, and Mac almost sighed at the loss. "Ready, Mac?"

Mac licked his lips. "Yeah," he said, voice cracking with anticipation.

"Here it comes." Mac felt the fingers leave him, to be replaced with the warm rubber tip at his entrance, and he forced himself to relax and to remain perfectly still as the toy slid slowly into him.

"Jesus," Mac breathed when it was only halfway in, spreading his legs as wide as he could in his current position.

"Not quite there yet, partner," Horatio chuckled as he moved to stand completely behind Mac, sliding the toy in another aggravatingly slow inch.

Mac groaned as the dildo filled him, stretching him past what Horatio's fingers had done, and he felt his legs shaking as he finally felt Horatio's hand curled around the rod, fingers flush against the Marine's ass. "I'll give you a second to get used to it," Horatio told him, and Mac panted as he nodded.

"Here, Mac. Does this help?" Mac felt the toy twist slightly, Horatio's free hand brushing across one asscheek, and suddenly the dildo came to life, vibrating on a low setting, and Mac couldn't fight back the moan that rose from somewhere deep inside him. "Oh, I think it does," Horatio sounded almost smug as he pulled the toy out slightly, pushing it gently back in, and Mac hissed through clenched teeth.

"Don't fight it, Mac. Don't fight what feels good," Horatio murmured, pulling it out another couple of inches, and was surprised when Mac pushed back onto it. "Good man. Take that dick, every inch of it."

Mac could've sworn he felt his feet vibrating along with the rod as he was emptied and filled, emptied and filled again, brushing against his prostate with every stroke, a tingling sensation beginning to settle somewhere at the base of his skull.

Slowly Horatio built up a rhythm, pulling and pushing, and Mac pushed and pulled back. "That's it, Mac," Horatio growled in his ear. "Fuck yourself onto your own hard cock."

Mac groaned and tossed his head, arching his hips backward. Horatio's free hand slid around his waist, rubbing his front before sliding slowly down, maddeningly slow, fingers pausing just as they reached sparse tangles of pubic hair, and Mac snarled in frustration, bucking his hips up and back, trying to make Horatio's hand move lower.

"Something you want to say, Mac?" The redhead's lustful rumble was smug, almost mocking.

Mac curled his lips in a snarl, standing on the balls of his feet, but Horatio's hand never moved from its place on Mac's belly.

"Say it, Mac."

"No…" the word tore itself from the Marine's lips even as he arched his back, caught between the frustration of Horatio's hand and the massive rubber dick that pounded into his ass.

"Why not? There's no shame in begging."

"I… I don't…" Mac cut himself off with a wheezing growl, hips thrusting harder.

"Say it."

"No…"

_"Say it!"_ Horatio's voice rang with authority and dominance in his ear, and the word ripped itself from his throat.

_"PLEASE!"_ Instantly the infuriating hand on Mac's abdomen jerked downward, wrapping firmly around the Marine's nearly purple cock, and Mac threw his head back and howled.

"You're not coming yet, Mac," Horatio ordered after a few seconds, pinching at the root and staving off Mac's orgasm. "Not yet." His hand slipped off the pulsing cock and Mac nearly whimpered with need, until he felt movement behind and to his side, and suddenly his dick was enveloped in Horatio's warm mouth even as the dildo continued to invade him from behind.

To make matters worse, Horatio twisted the knob that turned the vibrator on full blast.

Mac went rigid, tight as a guitar string, head back, all muscles in his body clenched tight as Horatio sucked him all the way down to the root and massaged him with his throat muscles and shoved Mac's rubber rod deep inside as far as it could go, and stars exploded beneath the blindfold and Mac screamed as he came.

He'd never felt such blinding sensations in his life; his cock enveloped deep in the redhead's hot wet mouth and suckling his come from him, the thick hard rubber that filled him to bursting as it vibrated mindlessly against his prostate, the sheer authority that Horatio had exuded and that Mac had eaten like candy, and Mac's body shuddered at the over-stimulation, mouth open, eyes tightly shut even through the blindfold. "Horatio," he started, legs quaking.

"I see it," the redhead reassured him after releasing Mac's softening still-wet cock, rising. Swiftly he wrapped an arm around Mac's waist as his other hand reached high, feeling for the box holding the chains and squeezing in a certain place. Something clicked in the box, and the chains sang as they came free and poured out, Horatio's arm still raised to catch them before landing on the Marine's head. Suddenly robbed of his support, Mac sagged into the slim frame, and it was all Horatio could do to direct his fall to the bed, lying on his side.

When Mac was down, Horatio reached behind him and slowly pulled out the vibrating toy, silencing it, and Mac gave a shaky moan at the sudden emptiness. Suddenly Horatio was lying behind him, cradling him, stroking his hair and whispering in his ear. Mac leaned back into the comforting chest, wiry little hairs tickling his back. "Good job, Mac," Horatio whispered soothingly as he pulled off the blindfold. "Good job, I'm proud of you. It's okay, just calm down, I've got you. You took quite a bit. I'm impressed. It's okay, just relax."

They lay there for a few more minutes, until Mac came back to himself. "Want a drink?" the redhead asked, and Mac nodded. "All right, I'll be right back."

The warmth from Mac's back disappeared, and he sighed as he pulled himself farther onto the bed, just lying there and floating in the haze that still clung to his brain. His arms ached with renewed circulation and from being upraised for so long.

Some time later—and how long, Mac couldn't be sure-—Horatio was back with two glasses of wine in his hands. Mac carefully rose to a sitting position, surprised at the lack of pain in his rear as he took a glass. Idly he glanced at the leather cuffs still on his wrists, still with the two-foot lengths of chain dangling from them, but on a whim decided to leave them on. Horatio, rather than sitting next to him, knelt on the other end of the bed, watching him, half-hard cock twitching slightly.

"What was that?" Mac asked finally.

Horatio gave a tiny smile. "Over-stimulation. And I may have gone slightly too far in; I wasn't taking your height into account like I should have been."

Mac's brow furrowed. "What happens if you go in too far?"

Horatio tilted his head, sighed. "It can be dangerous, to be honest. Cramping the vital organs and tearing the colon are the biggest dangers." His eyes were stern as he stared at his student. "Swear to me that neither you, nor anyone you know, will ever go that deep unless the person doing it is experienced."

Mac nodded. Then, quietly, "that was absolutely amazing."

Horatio's smile returned in broad form, the red head tilting in a tiny bow. "You're quite welcome, Mac. But," and here he moved forward, snatching the near-empty wineglass from the Marine's hand, "we're not done yet."

Mac stared at him, brain still foggy.

"I still haven't come yet," Horatio reminded him, shoulders straightening as he once again took the role of dom, of teacher, of top. "Come finish me off," he commanded.

Mac gave a reluctant growl, flopping onto the bed. His eyes widened when Horatio grabbed his chains and bodily yanked him back upright. "I didn't say you could rest yet," he snapped, and Mac's eyes darkened again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that," the Marine sneered. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes Horatio's hand was tangled firmly in his hair, his blazing blue eyes inches from Mac's face.

"I said finish me off, Mac," the top snarled, leaning back and pulling the larger man down with him. "Now. Do it." He gave a pointed tug, and Mac thought what the hell.

Sliding over the redhead's slim body, Mac's hands found Horatio's straining erection, iron hard and throbbing, and Mac leaned down and took it all the way to the base. Horatio grunted, swore, hands twisting in the surprisingly soft brown hair.

Mac's lips slid up and down the hard length, worshipping it, reveling in the warm firmness that Horatio thrust into Mac's willing mouth. Which is why it surprised Mac when the hands in his hair suddenly yanked his head back.

"Not like this," Horatio growled, panting. "Ride me." Mac started to protest—he was tired, he was a little sore, he needed a condom—but Horatio's glare made all protests die in his throat. "I said trust me, Mac. I'm clean, you're clean, and right now I'm telling you to take this dick inside you and ride it like you'll never see a cock again."

Mac gave a throaty groan and slid atop the older man. He couldn't resist; the power, the sheer authority of Horatio's voice made him weak at the knees. Horatio shifted and moved one hand underneath himself as he squirmed into position. Straddling the redhead's thighs, Mac aligned himself and slowly dropped down.

Horatio wasn't nearly as thick as the blunt instrument he'd used earlier, but he still had a bit of length to him, and Mac bit back a moan as he sank as far as he could, impaling himself. In the back of his mind, Mac realized that Horatio's little lecture with the dildo had served a dual purpose, teaching a Marine a lesson and preparing him for the Miami man's own length. Right now Mac couldn't care less; it had been far too long since he'd let another real man inside him, and he lifted himself before slamming back down.

Horatio groaned, hands grasping Mac's hips, eyes rolling back in his head. "So tight, Mac… so fucking tight, even after… Ride me, dammit," he hissed, and Mac did just that.

Mac leaned forward, hands on the bedspread on either side of Horatio's head, rocking his hips as Horatio matched him thrust for thrust, the redhead bucking up as Mac slammed down, pounding each other hard. Horatio was stronger than he looked, pounding into the Marine's dark heat, and Mac could only revel in the power of the thrusts, throwing his head back and growling as he took every inch of Horatio as deep as he could, over and over.

Something was odd about the way Horatio was fucking him, Mac somehow noted. His legs were spread oddly far, and the way he was thrusting, every one of the redhead's downstrokes was just as hard as the upstroke, as though he was… "You're not," Mac gasped, wide-eyed, one hand reaching behind himself, down past Horatio's sac and to the man's ass, and to the rubbery, buzzing object protruding from it.

Mac settled down on Horatio's hips, not moving, one incredulous hand still touching Mac's replica even as Horatio groaned and rocked his hips, unable to lift the Marine's weight. "Mac, please," the redhead hissed. "Make me come, Mac, and you can fuck me."

Suddenly Mac had an idea, a cruel, cruel idea for how to pay Horatio back for what he'd endured that evening. He lifted himself off the redhead, who stared at him uncomprehendingly, before Mac turned around and sank down again, this time facing away from him. Horatio sighed as he sank back into Mac, and his legs jerked suddenly when he felt the rubber rod in his ass start to move in and out.

"That's not… what I meant," Horatio's voiced was garbled, hands clenching Mac's hips with bruising force even as he slammed into the Marine even harder than before, legs spread to accommodate the younger man's hand as he pumped the dildo in and out. They soon found a rhythm, Mac slamming down onto Horatio's dick and pushing on the toy, then rising off Horatio and pulling the toy out a little. If anything, Horatio seemed to grow even harder.

It was on one of Mac's lifts when Horatio snarled "Don't move!" Mac froze, wondering what was going on, then Horatio sucked in a breath between clenched teeth, arched his back, and slammed into the Marine as hard as he could. Mac just hovered there, one finger on the end of the dildo, feeling it twitch as the redhead's muscles spasmed around it, and Mac could feel the liquid warmth spilling from Horatio's cock, coating his insides.

Finally Horatio let his hips fall back to the mattress, softening and falling out. As Mac took his cue to climb off, the redhead spread his legs, the vibrator sounding obscenely loud in the sudden quiet. "Pull it out. Slowly." Mac did as he was told, silencing it and laying it on the bed beside him, and Horatio groaned at the sudden emptiness. "Clean me up," he ordered quietly, and Mac bent his lips to the sweating, cum-stained belly, licking up every drop of semen. When he was done, Horatio rolled over onto his stomach. "Now," he said slowly, voice saying he was still in control and Mac knew that he was, "you can fuck me until you come."

Mac gave a throaty groan as Horatio lifted his hand and pointed to the nightstand, where a foil square and a small tube of lubricant were waiting. He'd known that Mac wouldn't fuck him without protection, and Mac couldn't contain a twitch as his cock slowly began to come back to life.

He sheathed himself and slicked up, then realized that Horatio probably wouldn't need any prepping, and placed himself at the edge of Horatio's entrance. When the redhead made no move to protest, Mac simply pressed slowly in, and Horatio groaned again. Having been stretched out by the dildo, Horatio was perfectly sized for Mac's thick length, and in no time at all Mac struck an easy rhythm, the body beneath him giving occasional moans and sighs.

"Come on, Mac," Horatio said suddenly in a chiding tone. "I know you can give me more than that. I want to see what you're capable of." He rose slightly and twisted to look at the Marine over his shoulder. "Now fuck me, just like Danny said you would."

Mac felt a switch flip inside his head. Leaning down close, he planted his hands firmly on the mattress on either side of Horatio's waist and pounded into that tight heat like there was no tomorrow. Beneath him Horatio hissed and squirmed as Mac's piston hips fired, punching the thick cock into the redhead with the rhythm of a finely tuned machine. A haze passed over Mac: all he could see was the body beneath him, writhing and moaning.

Something changed; the fiery red hair softened, becoming bleach-blonde. The body beneath him took on a more ruddy tone, the muscles more defined. Indeed, even the body seemed to shorten, and Mac faltered. When the man beneath him twisted around to look at him, Mac saw the blue eyes and didn't see Horatio, he saw Danny.

Danny was beneath him, whimpering at the power of Mac's thrusts, at the raw speed and power of Mac's animalistic fucking, at the feral growls coming from behind the Marine's clenched teeth. Mac saw Danny, taking the brunt of his lust. He saw Danny whimper and shed tears when Mac pulled out. He saw Danny squirm whenever he sat down at work, saw the hurt in his eyes whenever Mac just _used him_ like this.

_"Fuck me, just like Danny said you would."_

Horatio had said that, hadn't he? Mac couldn't decide if the willing body beneath him was Danny or Horatio, but he knew that whichever one it was, it would be incredibly sore when this was over with. Mac felt his libido falter; he was tired, he'd already come twice, he was slightly drunk, and he hadn't eaten since lunch. The blue eyes looking at him, whomever they belonged to, sealed Mac's fate. With a growl that sounded almost in pain, Mac slowed and came to a stop inside that tight heat, his arms trembling as he lay himself down atop the warm flesh before his strength failed him.

He lay there atop his fucktoy, panting and wheezing. The body waited until he'd gotten some of his strength back. "Mac?"

The voice was Horatio's, and as Mac looked up, he saw the damp, mussed red hair falling over the blue eyes. "I… I can't," Mac wheezed.

"It's all right, Mac," Horatio soothed. "Want to pull out now?" Mac gave a tired nod and did just that, both men groaning at the sensations, before Mac was out. With a growl, Mac flopped onto his back, one arm over his eyes.

Dimly he was aware of Horatio peeling off Mac's condom, give his softening cock a gentle stroke or two before the bed lifted and Horatio's weight was gone. Footsteps padded across the carpet, and he heard wine splashing into a glass. "Want another drink?" Horatio asked quietly, and Mac gave another exhausted nod.

The bed creaked again, and Mac cracked his eyes to see Horatio holding two wineglasses, extending one. Mac took it, suddenly appreciating being able to drink for himself as he pulled himself upright.

"You don't have to explain," Horatio said before Mac could say anything. "I hate to say it, but I wore you out on purpose. So, what did you see before stopped?"

"I saw… I was on top of Danny, instead of you. He was looking back at me and I could tell that I was hurting him. I knew that even after I pulled out, it would still hurt, and he'd look at me tomorrow and he wouldn't just be hurting physically." Mac's voice was dull, his eyes far away. "I've been hurting him so badly, Horatio, and not just from having sex with him."

Horatio nodded. "And what have you learned about yourself?"

"That it's not just about me." Mac took a long drink. "It's about him, too. After hearing you talking about being so open with your Tim, and you being so honest about how you feel about him… I don't know. I don't think I can say what you want to hear, what Danny wants to hear. Not yet. But I know that…" He stopped, gave a short little laugh. "I can stop being such a selfish asshole now."

Horatio allowed himself a tiny smile. "So can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

The redhead's mouth twitched. "Was it honestly that bad, what I did to you?"

Mac threw his head back and laughed. "No, no it wasn't. And you're right, I know exactly what Danny was going through." He shifted on the bed to prove a point; now that his dick wasn't hogging all the blood in his body, his ass was beginning to complain.

"So your eyes are open?"

"Wide open." Mac finished off his wine. "I want to thank you for this, Horatio."

"It was my pleasure, Mac." Horatio took Mac's wineglass and stood. "Now, as soon as I find the keys, we'll get you out of those cuffs."

Horatio dug in his bag, found the keys, and unsnapped the locks on the soft leather. "Go get cleaned up, Mac. When you're ready to go, we're going to Danny's apartment. I told him to have dinner ready, and it should be so in about…" he pulled on his watch and checked it, "twenty minutes."

Mac blinked. "You've got this all down to a science, haven't you?"

Horatio snorted. "Science, art form, call it what you will. I just think you should enjoy the things you're good at."

Mac nodded at that, standing and stretching. He headed to the bathroom for a shower, finishing quickly as was his custom. When he came out with the towel around his waist, he heard voices in the living room. Stepping out, he noticed Horatio wearing his jogging pants again, talking in low tones with a man just inside the hallway. Noticing Mac, the man gave a small wave and nod, clapped Horatio on the shoulder, and left.

"Who was that?"

"My backup," Horatio said as he closed the door.

"Excuse me?"

"He was in the room next door. If this hadn't turned out the way it should have, I would have called him to come over and help me."

Mac stood there, dumbfounded.

"In case you attacked me, or I took something too far and you required medical attention. He's had training as a paramedic." Horatio gave a sheepish smile. "And besides, all those toys I brought out, those restraints, you think I had them in my duffel and flew here with them? No, Robert is an old friend of mine, from back in the day. I needed a favor, and he provided." He paused, eying the stone-faced Marine. "He also helped me carry you up here from the hotel dining room."

"So," Mac started, crossing his arms. "Does he know who I am?"

"No, he doesn't, and he doesn't care either. He also doesn't know what I did to you or why… but since he packed my little bag of tricks, I'm sure he had an idea." Horatio gave a placating smile. "Get dressed, Mac. I'll have a shower and finish putting away my toys."

As the redhead peeled his pants back off and headed to the shower, Mac began dressing. When he'd retrieved his gun and shield, his wallet, keys, and phone, he sat down on the couch. Suddenly he felt like he needed a bit more to drink. The past couple of hours had given him a lot of information to process. The shower had helped to clear his head a bit, but all the realizations that came crashing in were too sharp for him. He stood and poked around the room until he found the wine bottle.

When Horatio emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed and with his magic bag neatly packed, Mac was on the couch, mindlessly watching TV and with a significant portion of the wine gone. "Do you always drink that heavily after sex? I thought you said you rarely drank."

"I rarely drink," Mac confirmed, pronunciation still perfect even if his verbal tempo had slowed. "But you've given me a lot to process."

Horatio sighed and clicked his tongue. "Give me the bottle, Mac. Danny's probably got dinner ready by now."

Mac took a last long chug and handed the bottle to the redhead, standing with little difficulty. Horatio and Mac stepped into the hall, locking the door behind them. Pausing at the next room, Horatio knocked and the door opened, and the tall dark-haired Robert opened long enough to take Horatio's naughty little bag. His eyes barely flicked to Mac. Then they were gone, headed for the one place Mac desperately wanted to go, and to avoid all the same time.

What would Danny say? What could he say to Danny?

Only time could tell.

"Trust me, Danny. Sex isn't just about getting your rocks off; it's about making the other person feel good, too. _That's_ a good relationship."

"So your good friend Horatio keeps tellin' me," Danny sighed, cradling the phone in the crook of his shoulder.

"H knows what he's talking about. I wouldn't be with him if I didn't trust him like I do." The voice in Danny's ear was male, calm, and adamant.

"You might trust him, but I'm kinda worried. I mean, I'm the one that brought it up, and now your man's doin' God knows what to Mac." Head tilted at the odd angle, Danny juggled a large pot, a box of pasta noodles, and assorted utensils around the kitchen, trying to get it all in one trip. "What if Mac ends up hatin' me 'cause of this?"

"He won't," Tim reassured him. "And if Mac didn't like what H was doing to him, they'd both be over to your place by now. H wouldn't do anything that Mac wasn't comfortable with."

Danny mumbled something unintelligible, whether in response to Tim's statement or to the fact that he'd nearly dropped the phone, Tim couldn't be sure. A loud _CLANG!!!_ in Tim's ear and a string of muttered curses, followed by the sounds of several other things hitting the floor, did nothing to clarify matters.

"So who's winning?" Speed asked dryly once the swearing had subsided.

"Hilarious."

"Well, don't be too hard on yourself. Floors like to have a good meal every now and then, too."

"Keep it up, wise guy," Danny growled as he bent to pick up various fallen objects. "Your friend H—and hey, you mind if I call 'im H, too?—said he wanted me to have dinner ready by the time they got done."

"I don't mind if you call him H. So, what are you making?"

Danny's triumphant smile was detectable even on the other end of the phone. "One of my Mama's old recipes… I'm thinkin' _prosciutto crudo_ and _tagliatelle Parmigiano._ I had to do some shoppin' after work, but I think it'll be worth it."

"So, ham and noodles with cheese, basically."

"Don't knock it. They don't sell stuff this good at the Festival of San Gennaro."

"I'm not knocking it, it sounds good. Anything special for dessert?"

"_Cannoli_."

"You picked up some _cannoli_? Lucky bastard."

"Yeah… and I woulda made 'em myself, but I don't think I could do Mama's recipe justice."

"My aunt gave me a great recipe for lasagna. It's so good, Horatio offers me sexual favors if I'll make a pan." Tim made himself sound smug and enticing.

Danny cackled. "That good, eh? Care to share with the world?"

"Sorry, family recipe." Tim snickered. "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine."

"You got yourself a deal."

Mac and Horatio were quiet on the cab ride over to Danny's. Part of it may have had something to do with the fact that Mac was still _slightly_ inebriated, not to mention sexed out of his mind. What few brain cells he could spare, he devoted to thinking about all he'd learned about himself, and about Danny.

"First thing I'm gonna do is apologize," Mac muttered suddenly. "I was an ass, and I was stupid, and I need to say I'm sorry."

Horatio glanced over at him. "That's good of you, Mac, and I'm proud of you. Now, tell me again why you drank a third of the wine?"

Mac shrugged. "Easier to deal with some hard truths that way."

"Amen to that," the cabby piped up.

Horatio took on a pained look. "Don't encourage him, please." For the most part, the redhead was just as calm and composed as when he'd stepped off the airplane. He only seemed slightly apprehensive whenever Mac had to walk or speak. Public intoxication wasn't something that Horatio wanted to go on the man's record.

_It takes a special sort of person,_ Mac thought, _to put somebody through what I've just gone through and look that calm._

Finally the cab pulled up to the curb. Horatio paid the fare and exited the cab, walking around to help Mac up. Thankfully the man had been gifted with wonderful physical coordination, because if he hadn't, Horatio would've been peeling him off the sidewalk. The cabby looked at them for a minute. "You need a hand?" he asked finally, and Horatio smiled and shook his head as he slung Mac's arm over his shoulder.

Once inside the building, Mac managed (mostly) to walk on his own whenever other people appeared, but when they were alone he was content to lean on Horatio. Such a dependable person, Mac thought, and he really had to admire that. "You're a great guy, Horatio, you know that?"

Horatio just looked at him and kept moving.

"Tenth floor," Mac muttered as they reached the elevator. He stabbed a finger out and managed to hit the correct button on the first try.

"Why," sighed Horatio, "did I let you get hold of that wine bottle?"

Mac looked at him, eyes remarkably focused. "I'm a big boy, Horatio. I can take care of myself."

"You also have one of the lowest tolerance levels I've ever seen."

"And that's why I don't drink much," Mac nodded as the elevator dinged and the two men stepped inside. The ride up was silent, and the brushed steel doors parted on Danny's floor. Peering into the hall to make sure they were alone, Mac leaned on the redhead and pointed in the general direction of Danny's apartment. "I come from a line of teetotalers, so obviously tolerance is hereditary." A bit of the brilliant criminalist flashed through the haze.

"Obviously. I think Speed could drink you under the table, and he's not much of a drinker either." The redhead paused. "He's also Irish by blood, like me."

"That's cheating," Mac protested as they arrived in front of the door.

Danny heard muffled voices in the hallway as he stuck a pasta fork in the pot, testing the doneness of the noodles. "What's that sound?" Tim's voice asked. Danny had wised up, and set the phone to speaker.

"They're here," Danny replied. A wave of nervousness washed over him.

"Don't be nervous, Danny," Speed read his mind. "And don't let that pot boil over!"

"You gotta camera in here or somethin'?" Danny groused as he turned the heat down a little. Tim started to reply, but a knock sounded on the door. "Comin'!!"

Pasta fork in one hand, a stained once-white apron from his mother tied around his waist with the top half hanging down (every good chef needed an apron, she'd argued, but Danny refused to wear it properly), Danny jogged to the door and opened it without even looking through the peephole.

"Hey, Horatio," the Italian said as he shook the man's hand. His gaze shifted, and his voice cracked slightly. "Hey, Mac."

"Hey, Danny," Mac stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the younger man in a bear hug. "I'm sorry for the way I was acting."

Danny couldn't reply; he was too busy trying to support the Marine's weight when Horatio rescued him, helping Mac back upright. Danny was silent for a full five seconds before exploding. "You got him _drunk?!_"

"He did it to himself!" Horatio bit back defensively. "When we were done, I was putting everything away, and when I was ready to go he was on the couch with the bottle in his hand and a third of the wine missing."

"Mac, whassa matter with you?" Danny groaned, slipping an arm on Mac's other side, and the two sober men walked Mac to the couch. He didn't land so much as sink slowly down, and he stared at Danny with hazy eyes.

"Hey, H!" Tim's voice called from the phone still sitting in the kitchen.

"Speed! Hey, how are you doing?" Horatio greeted and moved toward the sound, leaving Danny alone with Mac.

Danny knelt, looking up at the man. "Mac, what'd you go and get drunk for?" Concern flooded his voice. "Man, I knew I shouldn't'a said anything to Horatio…"

"It wasn't him," Mac interrupted, patting Danny's shoulder. "It was me." He tugged on Danny's arm, convincing the younger man to sit on the couch with him. "He opened my eyes, Danny. I had no idea what I've been putting you through. I've been a rude, selfish bastard and I'm sorry."

"How'd it go?" Tim asked once Horatio had taken the phone off speaker and put it to his ear.

"I think it went well, except for the end. Danny told me that Mac hardly ever drinks, so I figured a few glasses of wine would be a good way to relax him." Horatio rubbed his forehead. "What Danny didn't tell me was that Mac rarely drinks because he has a tolerance level lower than you do."

Tim groaned. "Will he remember everything?"

"Hard to tell, but I think so. He's not very coordinated right now, and he's told me three times what a wonderful person he thinks I am, but his mind is still functioning."

"Well, good, I'm glad. So, mission accomplished?"

"Mission accomplished, partner," Horatio smiled, and he could feel the apprehension leaving Tim even through the miles that separated them. "So, you and Danny seemed to be hitting it off."

"Yeah, we are. I have some good news and some bad news on that, though."

Horatio quirked an eyebrow. "Bad news first."

"I gave him our lasagna recipe."

The other eyebrow lifted. "This had better be good…"

"He gave me his mom's recipe for _cannoli_. And by the way, the word _cannoli_ is the plural one. You wanna say just one, it's _cannolo_. But yeah, I can make 'em now."

The redhead blinked. "I forgive you."

Tim laughed, and Horatio basked in the infectious warmth of the sound. "I miss you, Speed."

"Miss you, too, H. You bringing me any souveniers?"

Tim didn't have to see the dark grin on his lover's face as he replied, "Actually, I am. Mac's letting me keep his… replica, and it's quite a specimen."

Horatio stepped back into the living room, the phone still on his shoulder, and he couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of Mac and Danny entwined on the couch, Mac on his back and Danny cradled in his arms. They weren't moving, simply holding each other, and Horatio broke into a satisfied smile as he headed back into the kitchen. Things were all right between the two New Yorkers, and now the redhead turned his attention to the stove. "So, Speed, what still needs to be done with this food?"

Roughly ten minutes later, Horatio stepped back into the living room, catching low voices. Mac and Danny hadn't changed positions, but they were speaking quietly to each other, and every now and then one of them would place a soft kiss on the other's lips. Horatio couldn't resist another smile; they just looked happy together, now.

"I hate to interrupt you two," Horatio started, and Danny's head popped up, Mac craning his neck to see over the back of the couch, "but dinner is ready."

"Dinner!" Danny yelped, starting to clamber off Mac, when Horatio held up a hand for quiet.

"It's all right, Danny, Speed helped me out with the last bits of it. I just thought you might like some while it's still warm."

Danny started moving again, this time with less urgency, and once he was up Mac struggled to a seated position. "I'm feeling sober enough to tell you that I'm starving," the Marine announced. "I haven't eaten since lunch."

Horatio ducked his head. "That's not true. You had a roll or two at the hotel… and a protein shake."

Danny snickered. "You guys are never going to tell me what H did to Mac, are you?" He glanced between them, and their eyes were suddenly elsewhere.

"That's need-to-know, Danny. You know, classified." Mac tried to explain.

"Classified."

"Yeah, like… to hell with it. No, I may never tell you what he did to me. All I'll tell you is that he shed some light on some very dark subjects."

"And hopefully gave you a few ideas," Horatio put in, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"There is that," Mac agreed, trying to stand and suddenly deciding that it wasn't a good idea. "Danny, mind if we eat on the couch?"

"Sure, it's fine," Danny said, moving toward Horatio and the food. "Be right back, Mac."

Suddenly alone with Horatio in the kitchen, Danny stared at him before finally giving a long sigh. "I don't know what the hell ya did to him, H, but thanks."

Horatio smiled over at him. "It was my pleasure, Danny."

"I'm sure it was," Tim's voice cackled from the phone, back on speaker, and Horatio coughed.

"Silence, you. You'll get your turn when I get back." The redhead mock-growled, and Speed laughed. "I'm not joking, Speed. The _second_ thing I'm doing when I get home is setting my bag down."

"Glad to know that I'm so high on your list of priorities," Speed retorted, and Danny couldn't help laughing. They were just so, so _casual_ about it, so unlike him and Mac.

"You guys always like this?" Danny asked, incredulous.

"More or less," was the chorused reply, which set all three of them snickering again.

"C'mon, let's feed the Marine before he starves," Tim urged. "H, if I don't talk to you again tonight, then call me in the morning before court, okay?"

"Okay. Love you, Speed."

"Love ya back, H."

They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Horatio turned to see Danny staring slack-jawed. The Italian sputtered. "You… you guys actually _say_ that to each other?"

The redhead was perfectly calm. "Yes we do, and we mean it." He paused, eyeing the Italian. "We may have a somewhat open relationship, but there's no doubt in my mind that we belong with each other."

Danny fell silent, eyes suddenly closed with longing. "Must be nice," he sighed.

"Danny," Horatio soothed, moving closer to the younger man and putting an arm around his shoulder, "I can't pretend to know what's going on between you and Mac. I do know that he will definitely be more considerate towards you from now on, but on the emotional level, that's up to him, and to you. Speed and I love each other dearly, but there are still very few people that know about us. As far as the general public is concerned, Speed is living with me because he's only got one functioning hand, and I'm helping him take care of himself."

Danny blinked at him. "He didn't tell me that."

"Well, he doesn't tell everyone he talks to over the phone, because at least they treat him normally. He hates being babied." The redhead sighed as he began opening cabinets, looking for cups. "About a month and a half ago, we were working a kidnapping case that led us to a jewelry store. The store 'security' opened fire, and Speed caught a slug squarely in the joint of his right shoulder. Blew it completely apart." Horatio's blue eyes were both hard and sad as he filled the cups with ice. "His arm has been in a brace and sling for the entire time since that day."

"And so he moved in with you so you could take care of him, but you two are really…?" Danny cracked a smile.

Horatio's face wasn't so light. "Well, yes, I am helping him take care of himself. And I'm extremely glad that this gives us an excuse to live together. Once his arm heals up… I don't know what I'm going to do. We'll either have to go public, or he'll have to move out."

"Why?"

"Well… only a few people know that he only likes men, and even fewer still know that I'm sleeping with him. It's not exactly normal, that a fifty-ish man (presumed straight) and a thirty-ish man (homosexual) become roommates without there being some sort of… fringe benefits." Horatio couldn't help but twitch a smile at that one. "Tim _was_ my subordinate when we first started seeing each other. And at the moment, his former best friend hates him, because that friend is a devout Catholic."

"And sodomy's a mortal sin, right?"

"Right," Horatio nodded. "And that friend _also_ works for me… and I've become quite fond of him. Not in that way; I've got my hands full with Speed. But if Eric were to find out, he'd see it as a betrayal, and he'd never be able to trust me again."

"I can see where ya'd have a problem with that," Danny mused. Suddenly he slumped against the refrigerator, a look of desolation on his face. "I don't know what me and Mac are gonna do, honestly. Mac's the 'all-American Hero' kinda guy, ya know? I don't think he could ever go public with this kinda thing."

All Horatio could do was stare sadly at the younger man, eyes heavy with compassion. "I can't tell you what to do, Danny. All I can tell you is that you're not the only one with this problem. I wish there was another way, but there isn't. Whatever happens, it's going to be rough."

"Yeah…"

A muffled thump interrupted their thoughts, and they both poked their heads around the corner to see Mac tugging off his other shoe, dropping it next to its mate with an identical muted thud. They looked at the Marine, who looked back innocently. "You two finished bonding yet?" Mac inquired calmly. "I'm still hungry."

Danny and Horatio traded looks, sharing a grin. "Yeah," Danny cackled. "Yeah, we're comin'. Hold your horses, Mac, food's on the way."

"Danny, I have to tell you," Horatio began, wiping his mouth politely with a napkin, "that that was some of the best Italian food I've eaten in a while."

Danny ducked his head. "Thanks, but I thought Tim was a good cook." Horatio merely looked at him, and suddenly Danny coughed. "Oh yeah, his arm, right."

"He's getting to be very good at doing things with one hand. He's a very intelligent man, and very adaptable." Horatio set his plate on the little table next to the easy chair he was sitting in, reaching for his beer. "Honestly, I'm amazed at all he's capable of now. He still needs help with a lot of things, but at least I've convinced him to start using the dishwasher rather than trying to wash everything by hand." He took a long drink, set the bottle back down. "He still insists on washing his good cookware himself. Doesn't trust my machine."

"I'll bet he's got no problems typin' with one hand, though," Danny said with an evil little laugh, and Horatio chuckled. Sitting next to Danny on the couch, Mac just looked puzzled, and Danny explained. "C'mon, Mac, every red-blooded man in the world has had practice typin' with one hand on the computer, because the other one's…" he trailed off, making a hand motion that suggested masturbation, and Mac snorted.

"Can't say I've done that," Mac said after a while.

Horatio quirked an eyebrow. "Never?"

Mac scratched the back of his neck. "Not in recent memory, anyway," he admitted, and Danny snickered at that.

Horatio stood, stretched a little. "I believe I'll take the dishes, gentlemen, and let you two talk for a while." Danny started to protest—Horatio was the guest, after all—but a stern look from the blue eyes stopped him. Meekly Danny handed over his plate and Mac's, and the redhead picked up his own on the way back to the kitchen.

Mac and Danny sat in silence for a while. Eventually the Marine spoke up. "So… anything you want to say to me? God knows, I probably deserve it."

Danny gave a half-shrug as he snuggled up next to the muscular form. "I'm just glad you're not mad at me for talkin' to Horatio about this."

"I'm not," Mac said emphatically as he draped an arm over the slim shoulders. "In fact, I'm glad you did. I had no idea how badly—"

"Don't talk about it anymore," Danny interrupted quietly, and impulsively leaned up for a quick kiss. "I forgive ya, Mac. Just don't ever forget about it, eh?"

Mac gave a slow smile. "Thank you, Danny," he whispered, pressing another light kiss to the Italian's lips.

Danny didn't answer; he simply laid a gentle hand on Mac's chest in a quiet request for more. Mac obliged, deepening the kiss, and Danny slid his lips open. It was as though a switch flipped, and Mac gave an aroused sigh as his tongue slipped into his lover's mouth.

Danny gave a quiet moan, the hand on Mac's chest sliding up to weave gentle fingers in the soft brown hair. Mac responded in kind, his hands gliding along Danny's waist to travel slowly up the younger man's back. The Marine leaned back, pulling Danny down on top of him with gentle insistence, and the Italian settled himself comfortably on the muscular body, their forms molding as if made for each other.

Danny was in Heaven; every time that he and Mac had fucked, it had been just that: fucking. Maybe a little making out beforehand, in order to get the blood pumping, but this… Mac had never been so gentle, so loving before. Those broad hands slid up and down Danny's slender frame, learning the contours of the body that Mac had thought he knew so well.

The kiss is the most sensual act there is, involving all five senses. To Danny and Mac, each of those senses was alive and on fire as they lay there, touching, kissing, just enjoying each other. Finally Mac's hands rested on Danny's shoulder blades, pausing, and then the fingers curled in a gentle scratch down Danny's back, and the Italian shuddered and moaned into Mac's mouth.

Subconsciously Danny started grinding his hips in lazy circles, and Mac gave a soft groan as he sucked on Danny's tongue, and Danny moaned again. The hands on Danny's back glided down to his perfect ass, massaging the muscles before grabbing firm handfuls, and Danny bucked his hips.

"Danny…" Mac's voice was rough with arousal. "You want to take this someplace else?"

Danny's eyes darkened noticeably, going almost navy as he slid slowly off the muscular form, standing and helping Mac to his feet. They embraced again almost instantly, shuffling in the general direction of the bedroom, Mac's non-sobriety more of an amusement than a hindrance as they kissed, stepped, groped, and stumbled their way to Danny's bedroom, shedding clothes along the way.

Finally Danny's knees encountered the mattress and he allowed himself to fall backwards, grunting slightly as Mac fell on top of him. They weren't quite naked yet, but they soon corrected that, Mac's boxers finding the doorknob while Danny's BVDs landed on the nightstand lamp. Danny felt himself pressed firmly to the mattress, Mac climbing over him, hazel eyes dark as he bent his mouth to the thin neck, licking and kissing, and Danny moaned and squirmed.

Mac's tongue traveled down the collarbone, teasing a hot wet path through the thin hair on Danny's chest until Mac found a nipple, and Danny arched his back and hissed. Smiling into the flesh, Mac sucked gently on it while his hand traveled across the smooth, hairless belly, finding the other nub and worrying it with gentle fingers, and Danny wove his fingers through Mac's hair again, hissing and moaning.

"Oh, God," came a throaty groan from the doorway, and the two lovers looked up to see Horatio standing there, one hand massaging himself through his pants. "You two are beautiful together."

The two blushed and traded glances, and something passed between them. Mac tilted his head at Horatio, a question on his face, and Danny gave a sensuous grin. The Marine turned in Horatio's direction. "You want a part of this?"

Horatio licked his lips. "Do you mind?"

Mac slid to one side to let Danny up, at which the Italian crawled over to the edge of the bed. Horatio stepped forward to meet him, and Danny's hand shot out to hook a finger in the redhead's belt, tugging him closer. Slowly the younger man brought his face to Horatio's trapped sex, nosing through the fabric, and the redhead hissed as the heat seeped through the cloth.

"I didn't think I was up for another one tonight," Horatio rumbled as he threaded his fingers through Danny's hair, "but seeing you two…"

Danny had his back to Mac as he fumbled with Horatio's belt and zipper, and Mac took the opportunity to crawl forward, running worshipping hands along the lean calves and thighs, marveling at the way Danny's firm perfect ass just _fit_ in his palms. Danny leaned back into the touch, making little noises in the back of his throat as he finally freed Horatio's semi-erect cock, grabbing with one hand and promptly wrapping lips around the head, and Horatio groaned.

Mac decided that he wanted to try something, something that he'd never done before, and especially not with Danny. He bent his lips to the perfect flesh in front of him, placing a soft kiss near the top of the tailbone, and Danny jumped and gave a long, low moan.

"I think he likes it, Mac," Horatio said with a smile, eyes heavy as Danny swirled his tongue around the head of Horatio's now-throbbing member.

"I think he does, too," Mac smiled into the flesh as his lips traveled slowly downward. Danny was outright shaking as Mac let his tongue slip out, pausing just above the tiny, wrinkled little brown eye. Danny bucked his hips, moans vibrating Horatio's dick. "Danny, you like that, don't you?" Mac whispered as his tongue flicked across the clenched muscle in the lightest of touches, and Danny's back arched and he made noises that reminded Mac of a cat in heat, hissing and rowling in pleasure.

Mac's tongue pressed against the tight entrance again, mind awash with the scents and tastes. It wasn't nearly as disgusting as he thought it would be; no, it was the smell, the taste of sweat, of sex, of just a little bit of Mac and of Latex, all overlain with something that was uniquely _Danny_, and Mac couldn't get enough. He placed his broad hands on Danny's firm hind, pulling the globes gently apart, tongue questing for more, and he could feel Danny's body vibrating at his touch.

"My God," the redhead murmured. "That has to be one of the most sensual images I've ever witnessed." He stroked Danny's hair softly, appreciating and encouraging the younger man. Mac merely flicked his eyes up to meet Horatio's before closing them, losing himself in the tastes and scents pouring into his mouth. The Marine fucked Danny with his tongue, and his lover pushed back with every little stroke; if his mouth hadn't been full, Danny would be howling like a coyote. As it was, the vibrations from the Italian's throat were driving Horatio to distraction, and if something didn't happen soon…

"Danny," Horatio hissed, and the blue eyes locked as Danny's head bobbed over his cock. "Danny, can I fuck you?"

Danny moaned again, the vibrations traveling through the redhead's cock, making him groan again.

"Mac… open him up for me, please," Horatio growled in a voice heavy with lust as he began removing his dress jacket and shirt. Head still positioned behind Danny's smooth ass, Mac nodded and brought a finger up to his mouth to wet it.

Danny made a mewling noise as Mac's finger entered him, searching for the spot that made Danny jump and thrust his face forward, nearly gagging himself on Horatio's aching length. Mac couldn't help a smile that seemed almost tender as he slipped a second finger in, gently brushing against the prostate, and Danny's body shook. Mac took his time, pumping and twisting his fingers, scissoring them just a little before he finally added a third, and Danny pushed back against those fingers with a definite whine, eyes tightly closed as he took Horatio all the way down his throat, and the redhead trembled. "Mac…" Horatio whispered, and the Marine nodded.

It was with a sigh of regret that Horatio gently pushed Danny's shoulders back, at which the Italian sat back and looked up at him. "How do ya want it, H?" he asked sensually, running a hand down his stomach. Horatio could only groan at him and quickly finish undressing as he crawled onto the bed. Mac reached into the nightstand and tossed him a condom and bottle of lube, which the redhead caught easily and nodded his thanks. Horatio could only stare with burning eyes as the Italian ran seductive hands over his own body, causing Horatio to fumble more than once with his preparations.

"I want you like this," Horatio finally rumbled as his hands gently guided the younger man to do an about-face, his pale perfect ass becoming a bulls-eye for Horatio's throbbing member. Danny moaned and allowed his lips to be captured by Mac, who was still sitting a bit off to the side, as Horatio knelt behind the Italian and placed the head of his Latexed cock at Danny's entrance. Danny made a long, low noise as Horatio slid slowly inside.

Horatio bit his lip, eyes tightly shut. "Mac… God, you weren't kidding. He's… oh, God."

Mac gave a possessive smile, stroking himself. "He's tight, isn't he?"

Horatio's only answer was an animal growl as he bent low over Danny, running appreciative hands over the younger man's back as his hips rocked in and out of that tight heat. Danny mewled at the ceiling, hands planted on the mattress and pushing back against the redhead.

Mac moved, sliding over until he was right in front of Danny. He leaned back against the headboard and stroked himself, giving Danny an eyeful every time the Italian cracked open his eyes. Danny moaned at the sight.

Horatio noticed, leaning farther down so his lips grazed Danny's ear. "You see that, Danny? You see Mac watching us?" he growled, and Danny moaned again. "He wants you, Danny. He wants what I'm getting right now, you know that? Do you want Mac too, Danny?"

Danny could only give an incoherent groan, bobbing his head in what might have been a nod.

"Danny," Mac rumbled in his own lustful tone, and the young man managed to lock his eyes on the Marine's face. "You want to put my dick in your mouth? Let you suck on it while Horatio fucks you?"

Danny whined, and Mac slid forward and down with his legs spread, and Danny lunged forward and took the thick rod deep in his mouth. Mac's head lolled back, curses and words of encouragement spilling carelessly from his lips as Danny sucked on his cock like it was a slice of heaven itself.

Horatio gave another animal growl, eyes locked onto Danny's mouth as he pulled himself into Danny harder, faster. For his part, Mac was focused on the space just above Danny's ass, watching Horatio's hairless stomach, seeing the flesh ripple slightly with every thrust the redhead made. Between them, Danny kept his eyes tightly closed as he milked Mac's cock while Horatio's hips slapped against him.

"Mac…" Horatio groaned, pulling Danny's hips with increasing urgency. "Mac, I'm close, I want you to… I want… Maaaaac…"

Somehow the Marine understood, gently pushing Danny's shoulders away from him. Danny released him with a loud slurping noise, looking up at him questioningly, but Mac leaned past him as Horatio pulled out. Danny moaned at the loss, eyes nearly black with lust as Mac swiftly peeled off Horatio's condom, flinging it away and descending on the redhead's wildly leaking member.

"Yesssss," Horatio hissed as he shoved himself deep into the Marine's mouth, and Mac welcomed him, relaxing his throat muscles and half-breathing at every stroke as the Miami man had done to him. Danny's eyes were wild with arousal as he watched the redhead rape his lover's face. Mac was on all fours, head back and neck outstretched, Horatio's pale fingers threaded through the brown hair as the older man growled and thrust, and suddenly gasped. Mac took a deep breath as Horatio shoved in as far as he could go, cock throbbing as the thick white cream pumped down Mac's willing throat.

Danny reached forward to the point where the two men were joined, and Horatio gave a wild shout as the Italian's hand found his balls, massaging and fondling, and the redhead's thighs trembled as Mac reached one hand behind to grasp one cheek of the firm ass, holding him there.

Finally Horatio sagged back, slumping to the bed, Mac still firmly attached and milking every drop. The Miami man's pale face was tight, mouth open in a silent cry as the two men continued to over-stimulate him even as the waves of his orgasm began to subside.

"Breathe, H," Danny said suddenly, and a harsh gasp tore itself from the pale Irishman's throat. Mac understood and pulled back, gently licking every trace of the salty fluid as Horatio twitched and shuddered, and finally stilled.

"Thank you," he said after a while, chest heaving.

Danny grinned at him. "For what, the screw or the blowjob?"

The redhead gave a tired smile. "Both, and for saving Mac the trouble of having to explain to Speed how you two fucked me to death."

Mac laughed even as he descended to the older man's thin lips, sharing the taste. Danny whined, and Mac released Horatio with an understanding smile even as he turned, mouth open to be devoured by the randy Italian. Danny's tongue plundered his lover's mouth, capturing every scrap of Horatio's essence, and Mac's broad hands reached for Danny, sliding up his back and gently scratching down, and Danny shuddered and moaned into the kiss.

Danny still in his arms, Mac eased him gently down onto his back, breaking the kiss to run questing lips on the goateed jawline, down his neck and landing on the collarbone. Danny writhed as Mac found a particularly fine spot, planting his lips and sucking firmly, bruising the skin, marking him.

"Mine," Mac growled as he finally released his prize, leaning back to admire it, and a tap on his flank made him turn. Horatio, lying propped on one elbow with his hair mussed and eyes satisfied, held out another little foil square and the lube, and Mac took them with a nod of thanks.

"Touch yourself, Danny," Mac rumbled as he sheathed himself. "Just like you did for Horatio." Danny's eyes were glassy with arousal as he promptly ran his hands over his body, sliding along his own smooth flesh, tweaking a nipple and groaning as he did so. It was the nipple that did it, and with a low groan Mac positioned his slick cock at Danny's entrance. It was out of habit that he leaned down, and Danny leaned up for his kiss.

The kiss was hot and sweet, not quite as mind-bending as their normal hormone-overloaded embraces but with a palpable affection to it. And so their tongues caressed each other as Mac pushed in, pleasantly surprised at how Horatio had already stretched the man out so that Mac wasn't hurting him. It would be the first time, really, that Mac didn't hurt Danny. Mac impulsively leaned back; he wanted to see Danny's face, and as he slowly buried himself to the hilt, he saw the expectant wince on the Italian's face, then surprise at the absence of pain, and at last, a slow smile. Mac smiled back, his gaze telling the Italian that he was going to enjoy this.

Mac was hard, sure, but he wasn't really horny. Mostly he felt… special. He wanted to apologize to Danny, and do it in the most primal and demonstrative of fashions. He didn't think he could come again tonight, not after all that Horatio had put him through, but that didn't really matter to him. What did matter was giving Danny the most mind-blowing orgasm of the young man's life.

And so Mac set an easy pace as he gently fucked his lover, Danny writhing and warbling the whole time. Both men nearly came as Horatio slid over until he could lean around Danny's upraised legs, his mouth finding Danny's weeping member and wrapping appreciative lips around it.

Under such an onslaught, Danny couldn't last much longer, and so Mac held Danny's legs apart with his arms while Horatio sucked the Italian's cock all the way down to the root, one hand idly toying with a nipple. Danny twisted and howled and grabbed two fistfuls of bedsheets and clenched himself tightly closed and arched his back and screamed Mac's name as he came, jerking and shuddering, Horatio massaging the throbbing, shooting cock with his throat muscles as Mac twitched his hips to rub on Danny's prostate, and Danny made a high keening noise as the two older men kept him going, kept him floating on waves of ecstasy for longer than any other orgasm the Italian had ever experienced.

Finally Horatio pulled back slowly, cleaning the spent length almost tenderly, a hand on Mac's hip warning the Marine to carefully start pulling out, and Mac did. The two older lovers lay on either side of the trembling Italian, holding him and whispering reassuring things as he came wandering back to himself.

"Wow," Danny panted, eyes on the ceiling, chest heaving.

Horatio smiled. "Your first threesome, Danny?"

Danny gave a tired "yeah," a broad hand on his cheek turning his head to face Mac, the hazel eyes boring into him with concern and—dare he think it—affection? "Thanks, Mac," he whispered, and the Marine placed a soft kiss on the Italian's lips.

"You're welcome, Danny," Mac whispered back, running a hand through the sweat-soaked hair. He lifted his head to stare at the other man. "And you, Horatio, thank you, too." The redhead gave a gracious nod before ducking his head to plant a friendly kiss on the Italian's shoulder.

Danny was too tired to be delicate. "Ya know, H, for a guy pushin' fifty, you've still got it. More than got it, even, you musta invented it or somethin'."

Horatio chuckled, not offended in the slightest. "I hear that quite a bit, coming from Speed. Honestly I don't understand what age has to do with anything. Personal experience makes the largest part of it."

"That's partially right, Horatio," Mac interjected. "But the bit about your age was completely accurate. Most men couldn't pull off what you've done at forty, much less fifty."

Horatio gave a mock-frown. "I'll keep that in mind, _sonny_, next time I fuck you through the mattress," he growled. Mac made a face, and Danny shook with laughter.

"So, H," the Italian began. "Now what?"

Horatio tilted his head. "I assume you mean, what am I going to do for the rest of the night? Well, I was going to go back to the hotel and take a shower and go to sleep. I do have to be in court tomorrow, you know."

"Well, you could always sleep here," Danny offered.

Mac blinked. "With us?"

"Well, why not?" the Italian reasoned. "I mean, he's screwed both of us, so it's nothin' he ain't seen before. And b'sides…" and here he snuggled down, pulling the older men closer. "I'm warm and I don't want 'im ta move."

Horatio couldn't help it; he wrapped an arm around the Italian's waist and pulled himself closer, burying his face in the soft hair and laughing. Hard.

"What's so funny?" Mac demanded, not nearly as jealous as he thought he'd be at Horatio's coziness with Danny.

Horatio finally caught his breath. "Speed said the same thing, the first time we slept in the same bed." He smiled broadly at the two of them, the hand leaving Danny's waist to stroke idly on Mac's arm, filled with friendly affection for both New Yorkers. "I would be honored to sleep with the two of you. I'll just need to wake up earlier, so I can get clean clothes from my bag at the hotel."

"That'll be no problem." Danny waved a dismissive hand. "Mac gets up ridiculously early, anyway. Guy's crazy, runnin' three miles every mornin'."

Horatio snorted. "And you people are swing-shifters. At least I have a regular sleep schedule."

"Name one CSI that actually gets enough sleep," Mac growled good-naturedly. His bedmates made noises of grudging agreement, and the Marine gave a satisfied grunt. "I thought so."

They were quiet for a moment, and then Mac shifted. "I hate to move you guys, but I need to hit the head."

Horatio suddenly moved, and Mac and Danny watched as the redhead slipped out of bed and darted into the bathroom without closing the door. The two raised eyebrows at each other as the sounds of male urination came back to them, and a flush. Padding back into the bedroom, Horatio gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Personal experience has taught me that men Mac's size tend to be a bit more… aromatic, especially after sex."

This set Danny laughing again, and Mac could only give an incredulous shake of his head as he climbed out of bed.

Not much else was said that night, and the three men settled comfortably around each other once again. They floated in the calm like a pile of puppies, satisfied, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Mac's biological clock woke him promptly at the usual time, which was just before 4 AM. For a moment he was confused as to why he was so warm, until he cracked his eyes open. Danny had apparently taken it upon himself to be Mac's blanket, and to the side Horatio appeared to be using the Italian as a body-pillow. The sight made him smile.

Carefully he freed one hand to lay it on Horatio's shoulder, shaking the redhead quietly awake. Horatio stretched, yawned, rubbing the grit out of his eyes. He gave Mac a nod of thanks as he stood and headed for the bathroom, flicking on the nightstand lamp as he went.

Robbed of the warmth on one side, Danny whined and shifted in his sleep, pressing closer to Mac. "Danny?" Mac whispered, arms wrapping around the younger man and rubbing his back gently. "Danny, time to wake up."

Danny gave a sleepy growl, burrowing his face against Mac's neck.

"Danny…"

The younger man made a noise that may have been words, if he had bothered to open his mouth instead of grunting them into the pillow.

"Come on, Danny, wake up."

Horatio padded back into the bedroom, searching for his clothes. Noticing Mac's predicament, the redhead stepped to the nightstand and held down the button on the alarm clock that would display when it was supposed to start screeching. They traded glances as they realized that wasn't set to go off for another few hours.

"Well, either way," Horatio began in a still-sleepy rumble, "I forgot to tell you good morning." He tilted his head this way and that, giving off as small series of popping noises, and climbed back onto the mattress. Mac obligingly leaned up for the small kiss Horatio bestowed upon him. Suddenly Mac had an idea, and as the redhead pulled back, Mac brought a finger to his own face. He tapped his lips, then reached over to point at the back of Danny's neck. Horatio gave an evil little smile as he followed Mac's directions, hovering close to the bed as he placed thin lips in the indicated spot, and Danny squirmed in his sleep.

"Wake up, Danny," Mac murmured as Horatio licked the sensitive spot, and Danny hissed and whined.

"Nnh… Mac?" Danny finally groaned as Horatio's tongue started teasing the space behind the Italian's ear.

"Right here," Mac whispered, and Danny's eyes popped open, immediately slamming shut against the invasion of bright light, cracking open again slowly.

"Mac?" Danny squirmed a little bit, taking in the sight of the Marine's face in front of him, and wiggled around to get a good look at the owner of the mouth that had started nibbling on his ear. "H?"

Horatio drew back and smiled. "Good morning, Danny." He gave the Italian a friendly kiss and sat back.

Danny blinked at him for a moment. "G'mornin'," he finally grunted.

Horatio's smile traveled from one man to the other. "Now that he's awake, I'll grab a shower." He climbed off the bed and resumed his search for his clothing, finding all the garments in the same pile they'd landed in. He clicked his tongue at the wrinkles as he tucked the bundle under one arm, pausing to grab a few empty coat hangers out of Danny's closet, and headed back to the bathroom.

"So how are you feeling?" Mac asked after a while.

Danny raised an eyebrow; Mac didn't ask him that very often. "Feelin' good. Kinda sore, but good." He gave a little smile, at which Mac bent his head down for a kiss. "Hey, how are you feelin'?"

Mac tilted his head. "Not too bad, honestly. A little headache, but nothing that won't go away after a few hours. And, like you, just a little sore." They shared conspiratorial grins.

"Hey, what time is it?" Danny asked suddenly.

Mac craned his neck and looked at Danny's clock. "Almost 4:30. Why?"

"'Cause," Danny said casually, giving a mischievous smile, "I was wonderin' if I had time to do something that I shoulda done last night."

"Which is?" The corners of Mac's mouth curled with amusement; he had a feeling that he knew what Danny was after, especially with Mac's 'morning wood' poking the Italian in the leg.

He was right, too; Danny slithered under the covers without a word, and Mac threw back his head and gave a satisfied growl as he felt Danny's talented lips encircle his cock. Horatio gave a damn good blowjob, it was true, but Danny _knew_ Mac, knew what got him going, and Mac settled back and closed his eyes, occasionally giving little grunts or soft sighs.

Mac's hands grabbed and released the bedsheets, rubbing mindless circles, head lolling back and forth. In front of him, the covers bobbed as Danny sucked Mac's cock, the Italian fully capable of taking Mac's length all the way down to the root, which he enjoyed doing immensely. Mac could feel his orgasm building, almost comforting in Danny's capable hands, and he was almost smiling as he arched his back and hissed, balls drawing up as he came in Danny's mouth. He could feel Danny milking him, too, and he slipped a hand under the bedcovers to tousle the already-disheveled hair. Danny gave a little grunt and released the Marine, crawling up Mac's firm body to share a kiss that was heavy on salt taste.

"If you two don't stop that, I'll be late for court," came the growl from the bathroom, and they turned to see Horatio standing there, clad in yesterday's pants and socks, slipping his undershirt over his head.

Mac tossed him a lopsided grin. "Don't get smart with me. I'm your ride."

Horatio gave a devious smile. "Again, so soon? Mac, give yourself a chance to recover."

Mac made a face, distracted by the sight of Danny on his knees and with his face in the pillow, shoulders shaking. "You two," the Italian gasped, "are gonna end up killin' me like this."

Horatio gave a casual shrug. "It's just like Speed says: 'Live hard, die fast, and leave an interesting crime scene.'" This time, both New Yorkers started laughing. Horatio concealed his mirth with a shake of his head as he headed back for the bathroom and his shirt.**

Other than the same light banter, not much else was said between the three men as they took turns showering and getting clothed. Danny was the only one who opted to remain shirtless and barefoot—it was his apartment, after all—and he loafed around watching the other two, munching on a bowl of breakfast cereal. Mac opted out of the cereal, saying he would go to his apartment and get changed, and complete his morning ritual as usual. Horatio normally didn't eat breakfast until he'd been awake for a few hours, but agreed to a few slices of buttered toast to eat in the cab on the way to the hotel.

When the two Shift Supervisors were dressed, Horatio paused to shake Danny's hand, getting a firm hug in the process. Danny mouthed his thanks once again, eyes strangely bright, and Horatio smiled and ducked his head. Mac grabbed an Italian bearhug himself, along with a soul-searing kiss and a promise that they'd see each other again in a few hours. That being done, Danny saw the two men as they stepped into the hall and headed for the elevator.

Horatio's hotel was closer than Mac's apartment, so they went there first, the redhead stepping out at the curb and pausing to smile and wave, and the cab pulled on for Mac's apartment. Once home, Mac promptly stripped out of his dirty clothes and put them in the hamper, and suited up to go running.

Hours later, seated at his desk at the crime lab, Mac's phone rang on his belt. He pulled it from its belt clip, saw the number, and answered it. "Taylor."

"Mac, it's Horatio. Turns out I got my continuance after all."

Mac gave a little ironic smile, seeing Danny in the hallway and making a quick 'come here' gesture. "I guess you wasted a flight, then."

"Well, I wouldn't say I wasted it… and I wouldn't think that you would say that, either."

Mac chuckled. "No, you're right, I wouldn't. That was a very worthwhile flight you made, and Danny and I are both glad that you did."

Danny poked his head into the office. "That H?" Mac nodded. Danny gave a little wave. "Say hi and thanks for me, eh?" Mac nodded that he would, and Danny went on his way.

"Mac?"

"Oh, that was Danny. He said to tell you hello, and thank you again."

"I was happy to do it, Mac," Horatio insisted. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted me to do it again."

Mac rubbed his neck. "I might."

Horatio's satisfied smile could be 'heard' all the way from the courthouse. "And should the opportunity present itself, I would be more than willing to oblige."

"I'll remember that."

Horatio chuckled and checked his watch. "My flight leaves in about an hour, so I'll go ahead and catch a taxi to the airport. Thanks again for your hospitality, Mac."

"Thanks to you, Horatio. Take care."

"You, too."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Mac stared at his phone for a long time, a little smile on his face. "Do it again sometime, huh?"

Maybe he would.

A FEW DAYS LATER  
Mid-morning, Swing Shift

"Wonder what we're gonna find this time," Danny mused as Mac pulled up to their destination. A call had come in, a possible 420 in a run-down section of Washington Heights, meaning that CSI was on the case. Danny and Mac had had no active cases and so they had taken the assignment. Their probable crime scene wasn't hard to miss; crime scene tape was stretched between the side mirrors of several NYPD black-and-whites to make a loose ring around the front of an apartment building, and a familiar unmarked car nudged the curb. No sign of the coroner's wagon, but Detective Don Flack was leaning against a nearby lamppost, waiting for them.

"Apartment hasn't been cleared yet," Flack said by way of greeting as the two CSIs strode to him, kits in hand. "Responding officers saw a busted lock and a little blood, and came right back out. First officer's a good cop, but her partner's a rookie, so she wanted 'im to wait for you guys so he could get a crash course on crime scenes."

"So they haven't even seen a body?" Mac asked as the trio entered the building.

"Nope. Officer Harned said that she and her partner Oritz walked five feet into the residence, smelled the blood and decomp, and headed right back out. She stayed to secure the place, and he ran out in the hallway and stuck his head outta window."

Mac and Danny traded looks. The smell of human decomposition was never a good thing. "So why all the tape out here?" Danny asked logically.

Flack shrugged noncommittally. "'Cause of those." He pointed, and the CSIs noted the outlines of bloody footprints on the cheap carpeting.

"Works for me," Danny muttered absently. Flack took the lead, he and Mac pausing as Danny placed A-frame markers and scale-rulers by the footprints and took pictures. That done, the little group clomped carefully up the stairs. They arrived at the open door of the apartment in question, the door being watched by a slim female officer with sandy-blonde hair and hard brown eyes.

"Officer Harned?" Flack asked, and she nodded. "Where's your partner?"

She pointed down the hallway. "I told him to watch the back stairs until you guys showed up. Now that you're here, can you find somebody to relieve him? I want him to see how this works."

"His first crime scene?" Mac asked quietly, and she nodded. "All right. Flack, take care of that, would you?"

Flack nodded and flipped his notebook open, all business. "Here's the story so far: 911 call came in about half an hour ago, little old lady says that she was wondering why nobody'd shown up at the ruckus last night. Funny thing is, Dispatch didn't report any calls from this building. Haven't been able to talk to many people yet, but the neighbor across the hall said he heard two guys yellin' last night at about 11-ish, and then some, quote, 'loud noises.'" Flack's face wore his usual 'you expect me to believe that?' look. "Figured somebody else would call 911. In fact, everybody I talked to said they were just _sure_ somebody else'd call 911."

"And nobody did." Mac sighed. "So why'd we get the call now?"

Flack flipped his notebook shut. "Lady next door—68 years old, by the way—was stayin' up to make sure we'd come to the rescue, fell asleep. She wakes up, she notices that we ain't here, and _then_ she calls." He shook his head. "This city, I swear."

"Well, let's work the scene and see what we find," Mac said firmly. Harned had reported no signs of life in the apartment, but Flack and the two CSIs went in with weapons drawn, anyway. Mac took the kitchen, Danny poked his head into the living room and bathroom, and Flack headed for the bedroom.

"Clear!" Mac's voice rang out.

"Clear!" Flack seconded.

Danny flicked the light switch and stopped dead in his tracks. "Clear, but you guys might wanna see this."

Mac and Flack holstered their weapons and joined the Italian in the living room. "Danny," Mac started, "What'd you find… oh."

There was blood everywhere. Puddles of it were scattered across the floor and the cheap carpeting, spray across the couch and on the walls, and there were definitely other signs of a struggle. The couch was askew, a lamp had been knocked over, and in general it looked like a five-man brawl had gone down in this living room.

A particular scarlet formation caught Mac's attention on the wall. "High-velocity blood spatter. Looks consistent with a gunshot wound."

"Or a nasty right hook," Flack suggested, his Maglite illuminating what was clearly a tooth on the floor.

Mac shook his head. "No human being could strike with enough speed and force to make a spray like that. That spatter is a kill shot, made with a firearm. Here's a bullet hole to prove it." He shined his light into the hole, looking for a projectile. "I'll have to tear this wall out to find it, unless the killer took it with him." He began photographing the walls while Danny knelt to bag-and-tag the tooth for DNA. Flack admitted that the Marine had a point and wandered back into the bedroom.

"More blood in here! Looks almost like drag marks," Flack called. "Oh, and another little hole in the wall. It's fulla lead."

Mac frowned at that. "Looks like most of the struggle, and the kill shot if there's a body, happened in here. There's too much blood on the couch to suggest that the loser just fell on it."

Danny was on his hands and knees, nosing around under the furniture when something flashed at him. He waved his light, and it flashed again. "Hey, look at what I found," he remarked as he pointed his Maglite at the shiny piece of metal, which winked innocently back. ".45-cal shell casing."

"Look what _I_ found," Flack called back. "Dead guy." Danny stood and followed the voice. Flack stood sentry at the end of the bed; Danny peered around it to see that the accordion doors of the closet were open for a reason: a young male, nude, lay in a crumpled heap against the back wall. The young man's back was to the investigators, dotted with bruises and lightly crusted with blood, and his down-turned face was hidden in a scarlet mess. Joining them, Mac lifted his camera and began taking shots as Danny moved to join him, the casing having been marked by another yellow plastic A-frame.

Playing their lights over the body, Mac and Danny were drawn to a shiny area on the man's rear that was cleanly cut by a trail of dried blood, and traded glances. "That look like lube to you?" Danny asked softly. Mac could only grunt an affirmative, his face tight.

Flack pulled his phone from his belt to call in the body, and Danny and Mac began their in-depth study of the room.

Twenty minutes later, a familiar voice came from the hallway and the two men looked up to see Dr. Sheldon Hawkes coming into the room. "Morning. Sorry I'm late. Hope you don't mind, Mac, but Dr. Yao called in and I offered to cover for him."

"No problem," Mac said neutrally, his mind already at work on the case. "Body's over here, in the closet. Since you're coroner-of-the-day, that means first touch is yours."

"My pleasure." Sheldon moved to the body, setting his kit nearby. "You already take your shots?" Mac nodded that he had. Sheldon laid a white sheet next to the body. He reached out to touch, running sure hands along the arm before slowly turning the corpse over and onto the sheet. The body was stiff and just a little warm, suggesting that this young man had died roughly eight hours ago. Turning the corpse completely over, Sheldon noted a few bruises on the chest and stomach, a battered mess of what had once been a boyishly attractive face, and a scorched black hole off-center between the eyes. "Single gunshot wound to the forehead, probably instantly fatal. No exit wound, so I'm sure he's still carrying it. I see a second wound track on the side of his head; looks like a bullet grazed him."

"There's a .45 shell casing over there," Danny spoke up, hooking a thumb over his shoulder, "And Flack found another bullet in the wall. They're marked and photographed, but I ain't bagged 'em yet."

"Do that, and process the kitchen," Mac said, "And I'll assist Dr. Hawkes with our victim." Danny nodded, and they returned to their tasks.

Hawkes had his thermometer poking out from the young man's hairless stomach. "Liver temp is 85.70, putting TOD at roughly 11:30."

Mac checked his watch. "It's almost 8 now, so he's been dead roughly eight and a half hours." He paused a moment. "The responding officer's partner is fresh out of the academy, and she said that he turned green not five steps into the apartment. I don't smell that much decomp."

Hawkes shrugged. "We're used to it. I guess he wasn't."

Standing back to watch the progress, Flack snorted suddenly. "I get it."

Crouching next to Hawkes, Mac turned to look at the tall detective. "Get what?"

Flack indicated their victim. "Male, nude, and looks like he was raped. With all the blood everywhere, and those drag marks you found, looks like our killer tossed our vic in the closet when he was done."

Mac made a face before giving a grudging nod. "Our vic was shot in the living room. There's no blood spatter to indicate that he was shot in here."

Hawkes sighed. "So our killer beats up this young man, rapes him, shoots him, and throws him in a closet. You think this was a hate crime?"

"Looks that way," Mac said with a frown. He reached forward and touched a finger to the greased area between the victim's buttocks and brought it to his nose for a sniff. "Smells like cooking oil, but there's a bottle of AstroGlide on the nightstand."

"That makes no kinda sense," Danny muttered as he came back into the room. In one hand was a bagged-and-tagged bottle of Crisco cooking oil, half-empty. "Lifted prints offa this, and got more than one set. There's no dishes or garbage that says that the vic or the killer was using this to cook anythin', though."

Mac furrowed his brow. "So why not use the lubricant that was in plain sight?"

Danny shrugged. "Maybe the killer didn't wanna touch anything that the vic used."

Flack nodded. "Like this sicko's twisted idea of poetic justice? So to speak. Like this killer's sayin' 'I'm not gay, but I'm gonna rape you anyway and I'm gonna do it however I want'?"

Mac and Danny traded glances, reading the anger in each other's eyes. While neither of them was fond of hate crimes, this one touched a particular nerve. "Don," Mac said slowly and calmly, "talk to the neighbors. Get the full story, and ask if anybody knows anything about a boyfriend."

"Got it." And Flack was gone.

Mac made another sweep of the room, bagging the AstroGlide and a few of John Doe's condoms. Danny found a torn condom wrapper that had fluttered to nearly out of eyesight under the bed, with the brand not matching their victim's preferences. Mac found a few stray hairs that didn't belong to the victim—two different donors—and Danny pulled a few more prints. When they'd finished the bedroom, they went looking for their bullets.

Together, they began the surprisingly easy process of cutting out sections of the cheap wall with Mac's K-bar combat knife that he kept strapped to his ankle; he was a Marine after all, and this had to be one of the cheapest apartments he'd ever seen. The bullet had made itself a nice hole in one of the struts, and Danny pried it out easily.

When that was done, the two criminalists and the newly returned detective watched as Sheldon and a couple of coroner's assistants loaded the body onto a stretcher.

"What have we got?" Mac asked quietly. "I count three bullet holes—two in the wall, one in our vic—and all three projectiles and shell casings. We also have blood spatter from close-quarters combat, as well as that tooth."

Flack tilted his head. "I got statements from the neighbors about hearin' an argument last night. One old guy said that his wife might know somethin' about a boyfriend, but she's out playin' Parcheesi with her gal pals. I'm gonna check back in a few hours."

"We've got prints on the cookin' oil," Danny added, "and the condom wrapper from under the bed. Fingerprints are all over the place. We got those footprints out in the hall, and they're everywhere in here, too. Oh, and those hairs ya found, Mac."

Flack gave an uncharacteristically nasty grin. "It's gonna suck balls—no pun intended—when you guys find this jerkoff and take a swab. Make sure and make it really mean, guys."

Mac and Danny weren't offended. Quite the opposite, at least in Danny's case. He was snickering the entire time they carted their evidence down to the truck. At one point, Flack thought he heard the Italian mutter something about their killer, and a remark along the lines of "I got yer poetic justice right here, ya sick fuck. Come and get some."

After dropping off their evidence with the proper lab techs, the trio made their way to Autopsy where Hawkes was just stitching their victim's chest closed. He waved a bloody glove at their entrance, then paused to peer at a report that a coroner's assistant held out for him.

Hawkes clicked his tongue. "When will people learn?" he sighed.

"Whassa matter?" Danny asked neutrally, wondering what the lean African-American was referring to.

"The victim suffered significant anal trauma, but that's not what I'm talking about. The lubricant is cooking oil, which means that even with a condom…" he let his voice trail off enticingly, "The killer may have earned himself a little post-mortem payback, as rough as he was." Sheldon's eyes flicked to Danny. "We all know what happens when you mix Latex and oil."

Mac and Danny traded glances. "That's right," Mac said casually, "The oil destroys the structure of the Latex, makes it incredibly weak." Dammit, he _had_ used cooking oil with Danny the other night, hadn't he?

"Most people don't know, and that's what bothers me," Sheldon replied. "Another thing most people don't realize is that vegetable shortening or mineral oil can contribute to the growth of harmful bacteria if it's used as a sexual lubricant." He pretended not to notice Mac and Danny look at each other again.

Danny couldn't resist. "So the cookin' oil bothers you more than what it was bein' used for?"

Hawkes shrugged. "People do what makes them feel good, and I have no problem with that. It just gets to me, that they do so many stupid things to themselves when all it would take is a little research."

"I still can't believe people actually do that kinda thing," Flack said, speaking for the first time since entering the room. "I mean, how does shoving… something… up your, ya know… how is that supposed to feel good?"

"Prostate," Sheldon said matter-of-factly.

Flack's brows came together in confusion. "Prostate? You mean, when you go to the doctor's office, and he says 'turn your head and cough?' That prostate? That actually feels…"

"Good? Hell yeah," Danny said without thinking, and all three warm bodies turned to face him. Suddenly he realized what he'd said, and coughed. Mac kept his face carefully blank. Sheldon wore his intense, give-nothing-away look, and Flack was straight-out staring. "Or so I heard, anyway," he covered lamely.

Flack opened his mouth to say what would probably have been the wrong thing, but Mac cut him off. "If we could get back to the matter at hand?"

Hawkes nodded. "Cause of death, .45 slug to the forehead. Bullet's already been sent to ballistics."

"Any significant wounds, besides the obvious?"

Hawkes shrugged. "I can tell you that your killer had big hands, and he's probably got a nasty case of fight bite. That tooth you found at the crime scene wasn't our vic's, but he _is_ missing a fragment, and the break happened recently." He pulled the mouth open gently, showing a nearly perfect set of teeth with a noticeable gap in one incisor. "You know, sexual assault against men is _almost_ always perpetrated by another man, and usually the rapist likes to start with a little 'oral' foreplay. Our vic wasn't a biter, but I did see some scraps of human flesh in his molars. So, A, your killer's packing a hefty piece of equipment, and B, he's probably _pret-ty_ sore right about now. DNA's got the scraps."

"Any other wounds?"

"Yeah. Our John Doe here is the guy that knocked out your killer's tooth. DNA hasn't confirmed it yet, but I'm basing that guess on his left hand." Hawkes held the hand under the camera-magnifier, and the investigators saw the firm indentations and bruising on the knuckles.

"Good. Trace?"

"Nothing that didn't match the apartment. Sexual Assault kit picked up plenty of sperm samples. DNA's got that, too."

A young tech with curly red hair and a short beard popped into the room. "Detectives? Dr. Hawkes?" He waved a folder. "I've got something for you."

"Come on in, Adam." Mac stood as the young man made his way over.

"AFIS coughed up your vic. The name's William Martin, age twenty-three." Adam Ross handed over the folder. "He was in the system because of a dropped assault charge about three months ago."

Mac leafed through the slim stack of documents, Danny and Flack peering over his shoulders. "According to this," the Marine read, "Martin and a man by the name of Randall Dawson were pulled off each other by an officer at a bar in the Heights. Martin was obviously losing, but the Dawson was the first to file assault charges."

Danny ran a finger along a particular column. "Martin said that Dawson attacked _him_ because Martin was openly gay."

Flack grunted. "Damn bashers."

Mac kept reading. "Incident report says that as soon as the officer brought up that little fact, Dawson started ranting and raving, with plenty of anti-homosexual slurs. When he finally calmed down and realized what he'd said, he dropped the charges."

Danny tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck. "So now we got a suspect?"

Mac flipped the folder shut. "We do. Don, did you find anything about a boyfriend?"

"I'll make a phone call." He stepped over to one corner of the room, pulling out his phone and his little black notebook. He dialed, waited, and then introduced himself quietly and politely—and then _loudly_ and politely. "Yes, ma'am, your husband said he'd tell you that I was gonna call you. No, ma'am, your _husband_. Yes, I'm with the police. Oh, no, Thomas is fine. I said _Thomas is fine_. I'm calling about the boy that… yes? Oh, Thomas _did_ tell you. All right… all right… uh-huh… thanks a bundle, ma'am. You have a nice day."

Mac quirked a smile at his friend, who slapped his phone shut and stuck a finger in his abused ear and shook it as though it itched. "Any luck?"

Flack nodded. "The old lady playin' board games? She says that she remembered this nice boy that helped her carry her groceries from the elevator to her apartment one day last week. Introduced himself as Patrick Avery before headin' over to our vic's."

Mac cocked his head. "Flack, you find Dawson and bring him in. I'll go looking for Avery. Danny, check on those bullets, see if IBIS found anything." He nodded at the redheaded tech that still stood by. "Thanks, Adam."

Adam grinned. "No problem," he said with a wave as he headed out.

The three remaining men paused and looked back at the body of William Martin, just as Sheldon pulled the sheet over him.

Danny cleared his throat, looking solemn. "He got killed just because he liked it a different way."

Mac shook his head, his face tight. "Not just killed. He was slaughtered."

And with that, they went on their ways.

The boyfriend, Patrick Avery, was surprisingly easy to track down; he showed up at Flack's desk barely two hours later, looking completely distraught. He'd tried to go over to Martin's apartment but the officer watching the scene wouldn't let him in. Instead, he'd only told him to go straight to Detective Flack.

Avery, like Martin, was young, blond, lean, and handsome without having features as delicate as their victim. He just looked like yet another Hot Boy On Campus. _Just two young lovers, them against the world,_ Mac thought with a silent sigh.

Flack was seated at his desk in the bullpen with Mac standing next to him. Avery pulled up another chair off to Flack's side, looking like a whipped puppy.

Mac started the discussion. "You're Patrick Avery? I'm Mac Taylor, CSI."

Avery blinked. "Crime scene? What crime scene? I tried to go see Will, but the cop wouldn't let me in. Nobody will tell me what's going on!"

Mac held up a calming hand. "Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

"If you'll tell me what's going on."

Flack nodded. "Deal. I'll start. What is your relationship with William Martin?"

Avery's eyes flicked back and forth between the two cops. "We're just really good friends."

Mac sighed. "Patrick, from what the evidence is telling us, it's more than just 'friends.' So, want to try again?"

The young man gave a defeated sigh. "Yeah, fine. We're sleeping together."

Flack nodded. "Where were you last night, at about 11:30?"

"Over at a friend's house. Not Will's, though. He said…" he trailed off, his eyes going wide.

Mac leaned in. "What? What'd he say?"

Patrick's voice was hollow. "He called me last night, said that he had a 'guest' over and that I would see him tomorrow. I thought that there was something weird about his voice; he sounded _scared_." He looked up at the older men. "Please tell me Will is okay!"

Mac sat on the corner of the desk and sighed. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but… his body was discovered this morning."

The look on Avery's face was one he'd seen far too many times, and each time, he knew that it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Shock, fear, disbelief, anger, and grief all vied for supremacy across the boyishly attractive face, but surprisingly he managed to keep it together.

"This is some kind of joke, right? Some sick joke?" Avery glanced between the detective and the criminalist, searching, begging. "There's gotta be some kind of mistake! Will can't be…"

Mac reached beside him and flipped open the folder on Flack's desk that contained a large photograph. Hawkes had done the best he could to clean up their victim's face, but the bruising and mutilation were far from discreet. "Is this Will?" Mac asked softly, holding the picture so Avery could see it.

Avery froze, his eyes maniacally wide. His mouth opened but no sound came out; he reached with a trembling hand, in slow motion, toward the picture. Suddenly he jerked and clapped a hand over his mouth. Flack moved quickly, kicking his wastebasket between the young man's knees just in time as Avery heaved up his stomach contents.

Mac and Flack exchanged glances, coming to a silent agreement. If this guy was acting, then Anthony Hopkins could take lessons. Mac sighed and laid a broad hand on Patrick's back, rubbing in slow circles as the young man finally cleared out the last of his lunch.

"Mint?" Flack asked without a hint of sarcasm, proffering a small handful that he kept stashed in his desk for all the winos he had to deal with.

Avery took one with a shaky nod as Flack bent down to tie shut the liner of his wastebasket. Unless Mac wanted it for some CSI business—and why the hell he would, Flack didn't know—then it was going straight into the incinerator.

"Will… Will's dead?" His stomach empty, the young man's face began to crumple. "No, that can't be right. Will, he's… he's at home right now, right? He's still… oh, God!" Avery sagged into the chair, hugging himself tightly and bawling his lover's name.

Mac glanced at Flack, surprised to see compassion on his friend's face. Normally Flack was a real stone-face when it came to people crying.

Finally Avery's sobs began to quiet. He looked up at the solemn detectives with pleading eyes. "Please find whoever did this."

Mac nodded. "We will."

"You can count on it," Flack seconded.

Avery managed the thinnest of smiles. "Thanks."

"Flack, any luck finding Dawson?" Mac grumbled, sitting at his desk and leafing through all the evidence they'd collected so far.

Flack lounged in the chair on the other side of the desk. "No luck yet. I've got uniforms lookin' for 'im, but he's still in the wind."

Mac flipped the folder shut. "Well, keep looking. I'm going to go check in with Danny."

Flack left, and Mac stood and wandered the lab. He spotted the Italian in the A/V Lab, studying photos of the crime scene. Beside him, Adam Ross was using the Virtual Crime Scene program, taking directions from Danny on where to put this bloodstain or that battered piece of furniture.

"How's it coming?" Mac asked the two as he stepped behind Adam.

The young tech shrugged. "It's coming. We're still waiting on DNA for the blood results, but I think we're working out a probable sequence of events."

Speak of the devil, another young tech with shaggy blond hair and sleepy eyes poked into the room, holding a file folder. "I was walking past DNA and they said they wanted you to have this."

"Thanks, Chad," Danny said as he took the folder. He, Chad, and Adam hovered closely, pointing between the folder and the computer screen, and Mac watched as different bloodstains were given brightly colored outlines. Most of them were green, but a few of them were yellow. "Got two donors, Mac."

Chad nodded. "Your vic managed to get a couple of good hits in. No match in CODIS, though. Sorry, I guess you can't win 'em all." With that, the trace tech shuffled out of the lab.

Adam was running a finger down the DNA printout, checking his work against the information provided. Finally he decided that everything was in place and clicked "Recreate."

Two wireframe men appeared on the screen, one green and one yellow. "Green one's the vic," Adam said as Green stood up from the couch and walked toward the door, letting in Yellow. Yellow's body language was angry, whereas Green looked scared.

As Mac watched, Green and Yellow got into a fist fight, the action suddenly pausing to highlight a small yellow speck flying from the appropriate man's mouth. "There goes the tooth," Mac remarked as the action continued. Yellow pulled out a gun and fired a round aimed at Green's head, and green-outlined red specks flew from the wound onto the wall. "The non-lethal shot," Mac confirmed. While Green was on his knees, woozy, Yellow began moving closer, aligning his crotched with Green's head. When Green started trying to fight back, Yellow fired again at the wall, and Green froze. The little video glossed over the oral rape, but it was obvious to the criminalists what was going on.

The viewpoint changed as Yellow dragged Green into the bedroom. Again, the video didn't show the rape—only a probable beginning position and ending position—and afterward, Green knelt at Yellow's feet, obviously sobbing. Yellow simply held his gun to Green's head. Green jerked and flopped backward, more blood flying. When Green was dead, Yellow grabbed hold of the corpse and callously dragged it to the closet, flinging it inside like so much trash. Then the feed ended.

"That look right to you?" Danny glanced at Mac.

Mac ground his teeth. "It looks _accurate_," he corrected.

Adam saved his work and burned the video onto a DVD. He handed it and a small stack of papers to Danny. "C'mon, Mac, I'm thirsty," the Italian urged in an edgy tone.

Mac nodded and headed for the break room, Danny not far behind. "No appetite either, huh?"

Danny shook his head and growled. "I'll eat after we catch this bastard."

"I'll even make cheeseburgers," Mac said firmly. A gay-bashing hate crime just raised his hackles, and he wanted this over as much as Danny did. The thought of anyone doing something like this just made his blood boil. "We'll get him, Danny."

"You bet your ass we will."

"We got Dawson!" Flack crowed as he slammed into the break room, and Mac and Danny's heads popped up. "He took some potshots at the officers sent to pick 'im up. Nobody was hit, but we've got him on at least that."

The trio made good time to the bullpen—Danny having taken a detour to grab his crime kit and camera—where two familiar faces were herding a struggling handcuffed man through the detectives' desks. Their suspect was swearing loudly in a Jersey accent, his short black hair covered by a greasy baseball cap that said 'Kill 'Em All, Let God Sort 'Em Out.'

Flack gave a prim smile-and-bow worthy of any upscale maitre'd. "Thank you, Officers Harned and Oritz, for bringing us this fine gentleman."

"You're welcome to 'im," Harned grumped as she muscled her charge toward the interrogation booths. "He's a real piece of work."

The young Officer Oritz was tight-lipped as he helped his partner herd the cussing, struggling man along.

Mac gave him a sympathetic look. "First time you've had a gun in your face?"

Oritz nodded slightly.

Danny almost said 'you'll get used to it' but realized that it wouldn't help in the slightest, so he clapped the young officer on the shoulder as the forced entourage passed through the bullpen. They found an empty interrogation room and 'persuaded' their suspect to take a seat. Mac told the officers to leave the cuffs on.

Harned nodded. "I've got his gun, by the way. You mind if I walk it up to the lab? Oritz needs to learn how to turn in evidence."

"Be my guest," Mac agreed, and indicated a snarling Dawson. "He's not going anywhere."

The two officers left, and the three detectives faced their suspect. Mac and Danny sat across from the man, and Flack leaned against the wall between and behind them.

It didn't take Dawson long to break his sullen silence. "What the fuck are you starin' at?" he growled.

Flack shrugged. "I'm not sure yet."

Dawson scowled, his beady brown eyes squinting at them. "Okay, smartass. Why the fuck am I in here, then?"

Mac was surprised. "They didn't tell you?"

Danny cut in. "They probably tried to, but they were too busy dodgin' bullets."

Flack nodded. "I can see how that could screw up the lines of communication."

"They were fuckin' poundin' on my door!" Dawson growled. "How was I supposed to know they were cops?"

"Maybe the whole 'knock knock, NYPD' thing, I dunno," Flack mused.

"Don," Mac said with a long-suffering sigh, hiding his smile, "would you mind heading over to Autopsy and getting some photos from Dr. Hawkes?"

"Sure, why not?" Flack shrugged, ambling calmly out of the interview room. Taking his time pulling open the door and walking through it, just because he could.

Mac eyed their suspect's face. "That's a nasty-looking cut on your lip," the Marine remarked. Danny lifted his camera and took a shot.

"Hey, whadda fuck?" Dawson blinked owlishly, his lips curled up in a snarl. Suddenly Mac noticed something else.

"We found your tooth," he remarked, reaching into his coat pocket and tossing the little baggy on the table.

"Good for you," Dawson snarled, sullen and angry.

Mac stared calmly at him. "How'd you lose it, Mr. Dawson?"

"Kiss my ass."

Danny blinked dramatically. "Ooh, Mac, he's a scary one," he said with a mock-cringe.

Dawson turned his head to sneer at the Italian. "What's the matter, pretty boy? Never seen a real man before?"

Danny gave a quick bark of laughter. "If you're a real man, then…" he paused. "I ain't finishin' that sentence."

"Smart," Mac muttered. "The reason we wanted to talk to you, Mr. Dawson, is because you're the prime suspect in a murder investigation."

Dawson leaned back. "Murder? What fuckin' murder, I didn't kill nobody!"

Mac tilted his head. "We think you did. Where were you last night?"

The suspect grunted. "I was out."

"Gonna have to be a little more specific, pal," Danny said casually.

Dawson shifted in his chair. "I was talkin' to some punk kid that tried to start shit with me."

"That's not the way we heard it," Mac growled. "But I'd call that probable cause. Danny, get a swab, would you?"

"Be my pleasure," Danny growled, opening up his kit and dropping a buccal swab and a pair of Latex gloves on the table. Slowly and demonstratively, Danny pulled the gloves onto his hands.

Dawson straightened in his chair. "What the fuck you think you're doin'?" he snapped suspiciously.

"We're just getting a sample of your DNA," Mac informed him calmly.

Dawson leaned away from Danny, his eyes on the Italian's hands. "Not with those, you ain't. I'm allergic to that shit."

"Oh really," Danny said without emotion. "Say 'ah.'"

"Fucker, I'm tellin' ya—" Dawson started, but he was cut off when, quick as a flash, Danny snapped a hand out to swipe the inside of their suspect's cheek with the swab. Dawson reared back and coughed.

Mac watched the man carefully, but other than a sudden and rather forced coughing fit, Dawson showed no reaction to having had Danny's gloves so close to him. _He's faking it._

Danny started to pull off his gloves. "Be right back, Mac. I'm gonna get this to DNA."

"Not so fast, Danny. Mr. Dawson, would you stand up and turn around, please?"

Dawson glared at him. "What the fuck for?"

Mac reined in his temper at the man's belligerence. "So Danny can get another swab, from that nasty-looking cut on your knuckles."

Dawson twisted around to look at his hands, still cuffed behind his back. Then he glared at Mac again. "I got no fuckin' cut on my hand."

"Sure you do," Mac went on almost cheerfully. "It's called fight bite. It happens whenever you punch somebody in the mouth. All the bacteria in their mouth gets into the cut on your hand, and since each bacterium has DNA, we can match it to the saliva found in the mouth of William Martin."

Dawson seemed to shrink a little. "Who?"

Danny stepped behind Dawson. "Don't make me grab your hands," he growled warningly. Dawson flinched, realized he'd been made, and curled his fingers around the back of the chair seat, giving Danny a clear shot for another swab. "Got it," Danny told Mac as he capped the swab.

"Good. Take that to DNA, and check on the gun while you're up there."

"Will do."

Danny left, and Mac found himself in a staring contest with Dawson. The guy had no chance. Dawson was a bully and a coward, whereas Mac was a hardened combat Marine, and a cop with an exceptional record of service. It didn't take Dawson long to see that and to drop his eyes.

"William Martin," Mac said as though they'd never left the conversation, "is the young man that's on a slab in the morgue right now. He was shot twice, once fatally in the forehead. He managed to knock out one of your front incisors, while you were barely able to _chip_ one of his." He let the little dig bother his suspect. Martin had taken decent care of himself, including the consumption of plenty of dairy products. Dawson looked like he lived on beer and fast food. "He was also raped."

Dawson gave a sullen shrug. "I had a feelin' that that pretty boy was really a girl," he said to the room in general, not admitting to anything but still unwilling to pass up a chance to air his anti-homosexual agenda.

"Whatever his sexual preferences were, they were _his_ choice," Mac growled. "And no matter who he chose to sleep with, the fact that _someone_ had sex with him against his will is rape in any state."

Dawson glanced at the two-way mirror. "Maybe he liked it rough."

Mac snorted. "Liking it rough is one thing. Battering and drawing blood is something else, Mr. Dawson."

Dawson continued to ignore him.

Mac half-stood and slammed his hand down on the table, drawing his suspect's startled glance. "I'm talking to you," Mac rumbled dangerously.

Dawson found some of his spine. "You're just talkin'," he said in an unconvincing tone. "I'm innocent until ya prove me guilty, remember?"

Mac nodded. "That's right, you are." He cocked his head as though a thought had occurred to him. "You're also stuck here for at least twenty-three and a half more hours, so get comfortable. I have some lab work to attend to."

Dawson stared incredulously as Mac stood. "Hey, at least take these fuckin' cuffs off!"

Mac paused to consider that. "All right, but you have to go in a holding cell."

The suspect suddenly changed his mind. "Naw, forget it. Go bend over your tables, pig, I'm staying right here."

Mac moved one hand behind his back to clench a fist where Dawson couldn't see it. Though he would never admit it, this guy was managing to get under his skin. He stepped out of the room without a backward glance, nodding at a nearby officer to stand watch over the suspect, and headed upstairs to the lab.

"Do we have him?" Mac asked calmly. Standing in front of him, Danny, Chad, and Adam all nodded.

Danny went first. "His prints match the partials we found on the cookin' oil and the condom wrapper, and some other prints I found. And we'll have to cast 'em to be sure, but I figure his footprints match, too."

Mac tilted his head. "The oil is what will probably get him. The condom wrapper is circumstantial evidence, but in this case I think it will work. I don't suppose that it would be worth holding out hope that he just threw the condom itself in the garbage at his home, since the sanitation workers made their rounds today. Adam?"

The tech nodded. "His DNA matches the tooth and just a little bit of the blood at your crime scene. His fist size also matches Martin's bruises. And his hair is the right color for those ones you found on the vic's pillow."

"Good. Chad?"

"The bacteria from his hand matches the vic's mouth." Chad confirmed.

Mac slapped shut the folder in his hands. "And I tested his gun myself. It's a match. He wiped it for prints, but I think we've got enough to get a confession out of him."

Danny rubbed his hands together, looking uncharacteristically dark. "Let's go get 'im."

"Mr. Dawson," Mac began. He and Danny were back in the room with their suspect, with Flack standing behind the two-way mirror. Apparently it hadn't occurred for Dawson to ask for an attorney, even though he'd been specifically reminded via the Miranda rights that he was entitled to one. Obviously he didn't think he needed one, which was just fine with Mac. "You said that you were innocent until we prove you guilty."

Danny leaned forward, smirking. "We gotcha."

Dawson leaned back and eyed the Italian. "You ain't got shit."

"We've got plenty," Mac corrected in a warning tone. "We have your prints found at the scene, including a condom wrapper and a bottle of cooking oil. We have your footprints, matching those we found outside the victim's apartment. We have your DNA from the tooth and the blood. And we have a match between the size of your fists and the bruises on Martin's body."

"Whoop de fuckin' do," Dawson grunted. "That condom could be for anybody. And you probably planted my prints."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Right. We ain't got nothin' better to do than sit around and dream up crimes to pin on people that piss us off. What do you take us for?"

"This is hard evidence, Mr. Dawson," Mac interrupted before his suspect could respond. "We also found your bullet in his skull."

Dawson sneered. "You kiddin' me? A pig like you couldn't find your ass with both hands."

"Watch it," Danny snapped warningly. "You can't talk your way outta DNA, pal. We've got you."

Mac nodded. "Randall Dawson, you are going to be charged with the murder of William Martin. If you confess, it'll go easier on you."

"Bite me, pig," Dawson snarled. "Since when is killin' fags a crime?"

Danny went completely still. "What did you say?" he asked in an incredulous whisper.

Dawson sneered. "You heard me. The little pretty boy was beggin' for it. He shoulda known better than to be kissin' all over that other boy in that bar. When I tried to set him straight, he went off on me. Little pussy didn't even get in any good hits."

"Not back then, anyway," Danny muttered, meaning Dawson's tooth. The suspect pretended not to hear him.

Mac noticed the tremor in Danny's hand on the table but pressed on. "And that made you angry. You couldn't let him get away with it."

"Damn right!" Dawson sat up, shoulders back and proud despite his hands still cuffed behind his back. "I found him. Took me a while, but I found the little pansy. I told him that I was gonna give him a chance. I was gonna be merciful, and show him why it wasn't okay to be a fag."

Danny gripped the edges of the table so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"What about the phone call he made to his boyfriend?" Mac asked cautiously, throwing a glance at Danny.

Dawson smirked. "Hey, I told ya I was merciful. I let him call his little boy-toy and tell 'im to stay away, because hey, I only got time for one fag at a time."

Mac growled. "Would you stop using that word, please?"

"What, _fag_?" Dawson drawled out the word as a challenge. "You ask me, I should get a medal or something. Who cares about one of those pussies, anyway?"

Danny jumped to his feet, the sudden pressure of his calf muscles sending his chair sliding back to clatter against the wall. His lips curled into a snarl, one slim forefinger inches from the murderer's face. "So 'cause the guy takes it from behind, that gives _you_ the right to off 'im?!" he snapped off, his other arm twitching.

Mac stood and grabbed Danny's biceps from behind, tugging him not-so-gently back. "Danny, calm down," he growled. "We've got him."

"But Mac, he—"

"_We've got him_," Mac repeated firmly, hazel eyes boring into Danny's outraged blue ones when the Italian twisted around to look at him, and Danny finally began to subside.

Dawson was looking at them with a coolly calculating stare. "Why does it bother ya so much, piggy? You take it up the ass, too?"

Danny's face twisted into a mask of pure rage, and he strained against Mac's vise-like grip to get at the now-cackling killer. "Lemme at 'im!" Danny howled. Mac realized with sudden shock that Danny was trying to unholster his gun, and made the decision to put his lover in a full Nelson and haul him toward the doorway. Having seen the commotion, Flack was holding the door open as Mac dragged Danny out of the room.

They traded places; Flack sat with the killer while Mac and Danny took the observation booth. Mac released Danny as soon as they hit the doorway, and the Italian slammed both fists into the cinderblock walls and seethed. Mac sternly closed the doors on his emotions and became the Shift Supervisor watching his subordinate. He'd never seen Danny shake so hard.

"Danny?" Mac's voice came softly after a while.

Danny remained rigid, muscles straining as though through sheer force of will, he would eventually press through the wall and get to the smirking murderer on the other side.

"Danny. Look at me." Mac put an edge in his voice.

The Italian finally made his head turn, a wild and haunted look on his face. "Mac… did I just…"

"Attempt to draw your weapon on a handcuffed suspect during an interrogation?" Mac said calmly, and Danny exhaled shakily, his fists finally coming off the wall. "Danny, what the hell was that back there?"

The younger man actually seemed on the verge of tears. "I dunno, Mac. Just… he didn't _care_! He thought that he had a _right_ ta do it! And he just…"

"Easy," Mac soothed, laying steadying hands on the trembling shoulders. "Look, Flack's cuffing him. He's getting locked in a box, Danny, probably for the rest of his life. He'll _get_ his poetic justice from the inmates, you know that."

Danny bobbed his head in what might have been a nod, struggling to control his breathing. He wanted nothing more than to collapse against Mac's chest right now, but the Marine was holding him at arm's length for a reason. He'd have to be content with the hands on his shoulders, for the time being.

Flack wandered into the observation booth. "He's laughin' his damnfool head off, but he won't be laughin' for long. We got the confession on tape, so he's goin' straight to lockup. I made sure that his officers will pass on the word to the other inmates that he's, well…"

"I didn't hear that," Mac said calmly. Flack could get in trouble for passing along that 'request,' but a little rumor went a long way for making somebody's life miserable.

Flack gave a casual shrug and turned his eyes to the shaking Danny. "Hey Messer, you aright?"

"No, he's not," Mac answered for him.

Flack tilted his head. "Looks to me like the stuff he said hit a little close to home, huh." Danny turned to Flack, his expression unreadable. Flack saw the confirmation in his eyes anyway, and he blew out a heavy breath. "So you are, aren't ya?"

Danny and Mac both knew what he meant, but the remark was aimed only at the Italian. "Mostly," he croaked.

Flack's eyes flicked to Mac, who spoke up. "I know he is," the Marine put in before his best detective could say the wrong thing. He suddenly realized that he needed to put this little issue to rest with Flack, and now. "Don, I've invited Danny over to my place for a beer. Care to join us?"

Flack blinked. "I, uh…" _I don't want to interrupt anything._

"C'mon, Flack," Danny barked suddenly. "Come drinkin' with us before I go out and hurt myself. Or somebody else." Mac gave him a troubled look, apparently unable to tell whether or not the Italian was serious.

Flack cocked his head, finding that he could live with that explanation. "Sure, why the hell not?" he said with forced humor. "Beers are on Mac, I'm good."

The moment they reached Mac's apartment, Danny tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and went straight for the fridge. Seemingly oblivious to Mac's disapproving stare, he twisted open a longneck and started chugging it.

"Easy," Flack cautioned, putting a steadying hand on the Italian's shoulder before Danny could fall over from leaning backward so far. "You wanna get stupid drunk, Messer, do it on the couch. And gimme one of those."

Danny finally took the bottle from his lips and remembered to breathe. He was thrilled that he and Mac had gotten Flack to follow them back to Mac's apartment, but now he realized that he had no idea how to proceed. Danny wanted nothing more than to lay in the Marine's lap and simply have Mac hold him, but he knew there was no way in hell Mac would that until he knew where Flack stood on the whole thing.

Danny wandered back into the living room and flopped onto one side of the couch. Mac emerged from his bedroom, having changed into jeans and a T-shirt, no shoes or socks. Danny apparently thought that was a good idea and kicked off his own shoes. Mac gave him a tiny look and bent to move the shoes so that they were paired neatly under the coffee table, and then went to hang up Danny's jacket.

Flack glanced around Mac's apartment. He'd known that Mac was a tidy guy, but _damn_. He considered running a finger along the shelves just for kicks but then decided against it. He probably wouldn't find any dust, anyway. He set his beer on a coaster he'd found on the small end table next to Mac's easy chair, then shrugged off his own coat and laid it neatly over the back of the chair. Mac saw the effort and let it slide.

Flack cocked his head and sank into the comfortable chair, pulling off his shoes and finally unknotting the noose around his neck. "You guys are lucky you don't have to wear a tie every day."

"I used to," Mac pointed out.

Flack shrugged. "You're the boss. You can get away with it."

Mac quirked a frown at that, but decided to go get himself a beer instead. Danny had lost much of his sullen attitude and had picked up the remote control, flicking on the TV and searching for a good baseball game. Flack didn't have much to say, having discovered a sudden urge within himself to get as drunk as Danny had wanted to.

Mac came back from the kitchen and settled on the other end of the couch with a full cushion between himself and Danny. He wanted to hold his younger lover, but he couldn't with Flack here. He couldn't decide how to start the conversation, so he figured he'd just sit there and watch baseball with the other two until he could come up with an ice breaker.

Flack took a swig of his beer, swallowed, and grimaced. "You got anything harder than this?" he asked, looking over at his host.

Mac traded a look with Danny. "I might have something. Be right back." He stood and took Flack's beer, headed for the kitchen.

Danny stayed where he was as Mac rustled around in his cupboards, the sounds of bottles clinking clearly audible to Flack. When Mac emerged back into the living room, it looked like he was carrying a drink identical to what he'd just left with. "Try this," he suggested.

Don reached out and took it, going bottoms up and almost instantly choking. He coughed hard, and Mac perched on the chair arm beside him to rub his back. "Jesus," he finally sputtered. "The hell did you do to this?"

"It's a Depth Charge. Beer with a vodka shot." Even a near-teetotaler like Mac needed to have something around to knock his socks off.

Flack took another long pull from the bottle, managing to keep it all down this time. "Perfect," he wheezed past the burn in his throat.

"Hey, Flack," Danny's voice came, and the two on the couch turned to look at him. "I thought I was the one gettin' stupid drunk, eh? Somethin' you wanna talk 'bout?"

Flack's free hand waved helplessly as he tried to explain. "Just, the case we had today. I don't really wanna think about it anymore. I just wanna get stinkin' drunk."

Mac and Danny eyed each other for a moment and Danny nodded, passing the ball. Mac took it. "Don, what bothered you about the case today?"

Flack took another swig. "Everything. The way Martin died, and Dawson's fuckin' attitude. Seein' Avery's face." Flack's eyes were far away. "That was probably the worst, watchin' a man cry like that. I've seen mothers cry less after losin' children."

Mac nodded; all three of them had. "Anything else?" He slid a comforting hand onto his friend's shoulder.

Flack wasn't looking at anything in particular. "He just looked so _alone_, all of a sudden. Like he had a hard enough time as it was, and then this guy offs his boyfriend. It's just so _fuckin'_ wrong." He gave a mirthless laugh. "I don't know what came over me, but I swear I was about ta hug the guy, just so he'd stop cryin'."

Danny sighed morosely and looked at his drink. "Great, now you got me all depressed again. C'mon, Mac, I need somethin' harder."

"Right behind you."

They stood and moved to the kitchen, Mac's hand trailing over Flack's shoulder as he walked past. It took the detective's alcohol-fogged brain a moment to realize that that touch had been entirely unnecessary.

He hadn't been lying about Avery's grief bothering him. Unfortunately, he'd fibbed: that hadn't been the main thing. Investigating a case like this had brought unfortunate memories to the surface. Memories of seeing Mac getting a blowjob in his office, of Mac kissing Danny, and Flack's lust-driven reaction to the whole situation.

Flack stayed where he was, eyes seeing the television but not really watching it, when something niggled at the back of his brain. It took his logical thought some time to wade through the haze, but when it did, it realized what was bugging him. Danny and Mac had been in the kitchen a while now, and it was quiet. _Too quiet._

Flack frowned and stood a bit unsteadily, grasping the back of the couch for support. When he was sure he wasn't going to fall over, he looked around the room as though making sure that his drinking buddies weren't just hiding in plain sight.

"Oh, God…"

Flack blinked. That voice had been Danny's, wafting from the kitchen. For a moment his natural curiosity went to war with his better judgment, but curiosity got the upper hand when Danny's voice came again, as a moan. Quietly he shuffled towards the noises.

Rounding the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.

Danny had his hands braced on the countertop. Immediately behind him was Mac. Both were fully clothed, but that seemed to make no difference as the Marine ground his hips sensually into Danny's denim-clad ass. Danny's eyes were closed, his head tilted back, and he was definitely grinding back. One of Mac's hands slid forward to cup Danny's half-hard erection through the cloth, and Danny hissed and moaned again as Mac's mouth found one of the Italian's ears.

_Holy shit, that is HOT._

Danny's head was resting on Mac's shoulder, and the hooded eyes turned to see Flack standing there in shock. Mac noticed the reaction and glanced over, his own gaze reminding Flack of a predatory animal poised for the kill. Mac _lusted_ after Flack for a few seconds, and suddenly his brain seemed to take over, and Mac quickly—and _reluctantly_—stepped back, Danny giving a sudden petulant whine at his lover's absence. His eyes widened, and like Mac, logic beat down his lust far enough to realize what had happened.

They had been caught. By Flack. Again.

And to their eyes, Flack looked ready to burst out of his pants. It had been Mac's look, really, that did the trick, and if Flack didn't find something to distract himself soon, he was going to start leaking through the fabric. That one image of the Marine staring at him while casually molesting Danny was going to haunt his dreams for _weeks_.

"Don?" Mac murmured soothingly, his tone one that he might use to calm a skittish animal. He didn't have to look at Danny to get his message across: here was their chance, and the odds of it going wrong were very, very high.

Flack's mouth worked silently for several seconds. "You two are… you're…"

"Sleeping together," Mac confirmed with a sigh. It took every bit of self-control to keep his heart out of his throat. Don wouldn't tell… at least, Mac _hoped_ Don wouldn't tell.

"Screwing." Flack finished his own sentence, as if he hadn't heard Mac speak.

Danny stuffed his hands in his pockets, as though trying to hide his obvious erection. Mac didn't even make the effort; it was Mac that Flack was obviously fixated on, and Mac knew it.

"How long…?" Flack's alcohol-fogged brain had taken a nasty sucker punch, and it wasn't working properly. His colleagues understood him, anyway.

"'Bout five months, now," Danny said, trying to keep his nerves in check. He had to admire Mac's composure.

Flack blinked at them. "Jesus." He couldn't seem to make his feet move to get him away from this place, and even though not one of them had taken a step, it felt to him that they were somehow being thrust closer to each other, and he fought down the panic. Mac was hard, and staring at him, and… _God, I've got to get out of here_. "I should, uh… I should go…"

"Don," Mac said softly, and Flack twitched. "Would you stay, please?"

_Oh, hell no. Mac did_ not _just ask me to stick around, not after seeing that._ His pants were so fucking tight, he ached, and he knew that he should be running like the wind. Mac took a careful step forward, saw Flack's ankles jerk, and stopped calmly.

"Why?" Flack managed to grunt out.

Mac shrugged his muscular shoulder smoothly. "Because I think we need to talk about this. Obviously you've been thinking about it, and I just wanted to clear up any questions you have."

Danny flicked an eyebrow at his lover; to him, this didn't sound like much of a sales pitch, but he let it slide.

Flack's panic began to show. "I ain't tellin' nobody, Mac, I swear."

Mac gave a gentle smile, as though humoring a small child. "I'm not worried about that, Don. I want to talk to _you_. You've obviously…" and he made a concentrated effort to keep his face still, "given it some serious thought." He indicated Flack's pants with a nod of his head.

_Oh, no_. "It ain't like that, Mac, I swear on my mother—"

"Then what's it like, Don?" Mac interrupted reasonably. "I'm bisexual, and so is Danny. I'm sleeping with him. As you can see, I have no problems with sexual arousal and other men. And you're definitely aroused."

Flack stood, poleaxed. This was either his greatest fantasy or his worst nightmare come to life, and he couldn't decide which. Fortunately his dick wasn't quite so confused, and it swelled some more, giving an obvious throb of protest at the tight confines of his pants. He winced and couldn't help laying a hand over it, massaging it.

"Would you like to talk about it, Don?" Mac continued. "Deal with these reactions, before they get out of hand? I'd be willing to hear anything that you have to say."

Flack flicked his gaze back and forth between the two men, who were looking at him with equally raging hardons. There was tolerance here, and acceptance, and not a little bit of good old-fashioned lust. "You sayin' you want me to stick around to _talk_ about it?"

"Don," Mac said quietly, "We're offering you a choice. You can stay with us tonight, or you can leave and we'll never speak of it again. It's all up to you."

The three men stared heavily at each other for a long moment, and slowly Mac stepped forward. Flack seemed paralyzed again, whether from nervousness or acceptance, Mac couldn't tell. With infinite patience, Mac crossed the few feet to his best detective until they stood nearly toe-to-toe. When Flack still didn't move, Mac leaned up to close the small gap between them, hazel eyes locked onto Flack's blue ones, moving close until their lips brushed.

Flack jumped a little, blinked hard, but otherwise didn't move a muscle. Mac took this as a good sign, and pressed his lips a little harder. The kiss was light and cautious, and it wasn't until Mac took another half step forward to brush their cloth-covered erections together—and Flack was hard as stone—that the tall detective let his eyes flutter closed, giving a little moan.

Mac allowed himself to touch Flack with his hands, running cautious fingers along his old friend's chest, down his sides, up his back. Flack was getting into the kiss, even going so far as to let his mouth open slightly, and Mac ran his tongue along Flack's lips and teeth in a silent request for more. Flack's hands found Mac's shoulders and squeezed subconsciously as he allowed his tongue to slide into Mac's mouth, and Mac sucked on it gently, causing Flack's knees to shudder.

Suddenly Flack broke the kiss and reared his head back, the look in his eyes torn between shock and lust. He looked ready to flee when Danny snuck up behind him, sliding hands around his waist to lay gently on Flack's stomach, and the slim Italian let his hot breath fall on Flack's neck—he had to stand on his toes to do it, though—and Flack couldn't hold back the groan. "Why?" the tall detective whispered.

The meanings of that question were many, and Mac wanted to answer all of them. "Why this? Well, Danny and I have been seeing each other for some time. Why you? Because to tell you the truth, we've been wanting you for a while." He smiled and ran soothing hands on Flack's shoulders. "Why now? Because of the case we had today. I guess I just want to prove to at least one person that sex can be good without hurting someone."

"You guys…" Flack's brain refused to work. "You wanna get in my pants?"

Danny nipped at Flack's shoulder blade, and the detective twitched. "Hell yeah, man. You're hot."

Mac smiled and leaned up for another kiss as Danny's hands roamed the detective's firm stomach, the fingers sliding teasingly up to rub against Flack's nipples through his shirt, and Flack's knees trembled. He let out a little moan as Mac broke the kiss to run his lips down the jaw line, nosing under Flack's chin and licking a soft path down his windpipe.

"You guys… are taking advantage of me, aren't ya?"

Mac started to ask what he meant when Danny cut him off. "Yeah, we are. Ya mind?"

Something about Danny's glib response eased some of the tension from Flack's shoulders, and he realized… no, he really didn't mind. "Guess not," Flack whispered, suddenly bold as his hands slid around Mac's waist and ran paths around the Marine's back, almost clutching them together.

One of Danny's hands abandoned a nipple and slid slowly down Flack's front until he found the detective's aching cock, giving it a firm caress, and Flack's knees shook. "Jesus, Messer…"

Mac smiled into Flack's neck. "Want to go sit down?"

"Fuck yeah."

Later, Flack couldn't be sure how it was physically possible for the three men to move to the living room while touching and kissing each other like that, but suddenly he found himself back in his chair with Danny sitting on him and doing a great job looking for Flack's tonsils, while Mac had settled back down on the couch and seemed content to watch, for now. The lust had returned to the Marine's eyes in full, and he was definitely hard as hell, but he simply lay on his side and propped up on his elbow, watching.

That look was draining all the blood from Flack's brain and sending it straight to his groin, which Danny seemed to appreciate. Danny slithered down Flack's legs until his knees hit the floor, nosing through the fabric of Flack's dress pants, and Flack couldn't believe just how _hot_ the Italian looked on his knees, his crystal blue eyes meeting Flack's own as the blond began tugging on Flack's belt and zipper. Flack tried to help but only ended up fumbling and slowing Danny down, so he settled for putting his hands on the slim Italian's shoulders as Danny reached into his pants and pulled out his raging cock and his balls, then opened his mouth wide and seemed to _inhale_ Flack, and the raven-haired man stiffened and moaned.

"Fuck, Messer," Flack groaned as he felt the head of his dick pressing against the back of Danny's throat. Danny only moaned, vibrating Flack's dick as he sucked hard and pulled back, looking Flack in the eyes before swallowing him again. Flack was trying to think of something intelligent to say besides the encouraging curses, but his brain wouldn't work.

It was kinda hard to think, anyway, with Danny slurping on his cock like that, and Flack couldn't believe how _good_ it felt. He threw another glance at Mac, who was still laying on his side, hazel eyes locked onto the spectacle, hands not moving. Mac was like a tiger, Flack thought suddenly, casually watching cubs at play… or watching prey. Flack shivered as he locked eyes with the man, and Mac slowly licked his lips.

"Don, you look like you want something," Mac remarked idly.

Danny's blue eyes peered up at him from bobbing over his dick, silently asking the question.

"I… I think I want Mac to fuck me," Don said hesitantly, and at the same time he couldn't believe he'd just _said_ that. Danny and Mac traded glances, and abruptly they grinned at each other and shook their heads. "What's so funny?" Flack demanded, irritated that they were laughing at his moment of vulnerability.

Danny was first, stroking Flack with his hand and resting his chin on the detective's thigh. "I really don't think you want Mac to be your first time, Flack. He's kinda… 'for advanced players only.'"

Flack furrowed his brows. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Danny looked at his lover. "Mac, you wanna help me out here?"

Mac shrugged one shoulder and rolled on his back to start unbuckling his belt. He unzipped and unbuttoned and fished inside for his cock, and when it finally sprang free of his pants, Flack nearly jumped out of his seat. "Holy Jesus, Mac!"

Mac gave a modest smile. "I'm not even completely hard yet."

Flack's eyes bugged out. That thing was huge and throbbing and he decided that he didn't want it in his ass anymore.

Danny crawled up the leggy detective to whisper in his ear. "You wanna closer look at it?" he growled softly, nipping at Flack's earlobe.

What Flack wanted to do was run like hell, but he forced the urge down. "Sure," he whispered back, and Danny crawled off so Flack could walk over to the couch. Something plopped on the floor at his feet, and Flack realized that it had been the cushion from the chair. Mac swung his legs to a seated position and Flack knelt nervously between them.

He'd never seen another guy's cock before, at least not in a situation like this, and the closer he got to it, the more it scared him. Hesitantly he reached out, tapping the side of it with his finger. When it didn't bite him, he tapped it again.

"Don," Mac said patiently, "we're not going to hurt you. We're not going to do anything that you're not comfortable with. And trust me, nothing you do is going to hurt our feelings."

"He means, grab ahold of somethin' already." Danny grinned as he brought over another cushion and dropped it behind Flack.

Flack looked between the two men nervously. Mac saw the internal struggle and beckoned for Danny to come to him. Danny did, sitting next to his lover on the couch, and the two began kissing again, heavily.

Flack felt his cock give another twitch. First it was all about him, and now they were ignoring him? Well, he'd show them. Mac's cock jutted straight at Flack's face, so the detective wrapped a hesitant hand around it and—before he could think about what he was doing—lowered his head to press his lips against it.

He heard Mac give a sharp hiss as Flack pressed the head of Mac's cock firmly against his lips, like he was afraid to open his mouth. "Take your time," Mac's voice growled from somewhere above him, and Flack looked up to see Mac staring at him with that intense, aroused stare. Beside him, Danny was chewing on his shoulder. They were both watching Flack.

Flack found that he couldn't break that gaze, couldn't look anywhere but Mac's hooded eyes, as he finally persuaded his mouth to open, and a bit of Mac managed to slip in. The Marine only stared at Flack, patient and understanding. Danny, on the other hand, was trying to peel Mac's shirt off. When Mac didn't move, Danny whined and lowered his lips to Mac's neck, nosing under the collar and nipping at the collarbone, and Mac hissed again.

Emboldened by the display, Flack worked valiantly to get the head of Mac's cock in his mouth. He was having trouble, though; it was just so dry, and the obvious fact wouldn't come to him. Finally he drew back. "Messer, how'd you do that?"

Danny gave him a dark grin as he detached from Mac's shoulder and lowered himself to lay on his stomach on the couch, and firmly grasped Mac's erection. The Marine lowered a hand to Danny's back as the Italian leaned in close and touched just his tongue to the slit. Mac gave a soft sigh as Danny pressed his lips against it as though kissing it, and slowly opened his mouth to slide down.

Flack's eyebrows hit the ceiling as Danny's head bobbed over Mac's length, seemingly going lower with every stroke. "How the hell are you doing that?" Flack demanded. Danny merely opened his eyes to look straight at Flack as he paused, took a deep breath through his nose, and slid down to bury his nose against Mac's balls. The Marine gave a soft growl and shifted in his seat, trying not to buck his hips.

Finally Danny came up for air, stroking Mac with his hand. "It's all about keepin' it slick. And breathe through your nose."

Flack stared at him, wide-eyed. "You just made it look so damn easy. I mean, look at how frickin' big he is!"

"It takes practice," Mac said calmly, speaking for the first time in a while. "At least he's finally learned how to keep from scraping me so hard with his teeth."

Danny ducked his head at that. "Well, if you weren't hung like a fuckin' beer can, Mac, we wouldn't have this problem, ya know?"

"I'm not _that_ big," Mac protested. "A little longer than that, maybe, but I'm not that big around."

"Bullshit," Danny grinned, and Flack found himself grinning back. If anyone today had told him that he'd end up on his knees in front of Mac, with Danny making wisecracks about the Marine's cock, he'd have called them insane. But the two were obviously at ease with each other, and their callous jokes served their purpose.

Flack leaned down and tried again. "Get a mouthful of spit first," Danny instructed, and Flack sucked on his own tongue until he got some, and opened his lips around Mac's cock. This time it slid in a little easier, and he almost made it to the shaft. Mac growled softly as Flack's head bobbed, slicking it up. "Nice, Flack. Keep it up," Danny encouraged.

Flack got another mouthful of saliva and applied it to Mac's cock. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his head down until he finally got around the crest of Mac's cockhead, and the Marine groaned.

"Jesus, Flack, you're a natural," Danny said with a lopsided grin. Flack just looked at him and kept working. He didn't make it much farther than where he was at; he still had a perfectly healthy gag reflex, after all. Mac didn't appear to care as he began kissing Danny again.

"Don," Mac whispered after a while, and Flack looked up at him. "Get your hand wet. Use that, too." The Marine was still exceedingly patient, but a bit of Flack's unintentional teasing was starting to wear through.

Flack didn't have much saliva left, so Danny bent down again to give Mac's cock a healthy dose. When the Italian pulled back, he instead reached for Flack's head, cupping it from behind and kissing him hard. Flack groaned as Danny plundered his mouth with his tongue, finally pulling back and leaving behind plenty of fluid. Flack cocked his head in a look that wasn't quite 'thanks' as he licked his palm and applied it to Mac's now-slick shaft.

Mac moaned—actually moaned, which surprised the hell out of Flack—as the detective wrapped his lips around Mac's cock again, stroking firmly with his hand. The Marine's hips shifted restlessly, trying not to buck into Flack's mouth.

The whole situation was absolutely fucking nuts, Flack realized as he diligently worked Mac's oversized erection. A small part of him realized that he didn't care, either.

"You know, this is backwards," Mac remarked suddenly, his eyes heavy.

Flack and Danny exchanged curious expressions, their eyes on the Marine.

Mac pointed a shaky finger at the kneeling Flack. "You're the newcomer. It's _your_ dick that _I_ should be sucking."

Flack's mouth fell open at that. From Danny's angle, the Italian could clearly see Flack's cock surge, and he grinned. "I think he likes that idea, Mac."

"Good." Mac carefully pushed Flack's shoulders back and struggled to sit up, and then stand. Flack suddenly felt another rush of lust as the Marine towered over him, sliding off his pants and shirt until there was nothing left but that raging monster penis, the one that Flack couldn't seem to tear his eyes from. With a gentle hand on the detective's shoulder, Mac tugged Flack to his feet. "It's easier to do if there's less in the way," the Marine rumbled softly, and Flack's length twitched again.

That's when Mac kissed him again, one hand sliding down his stomach to grasp his dick and give it a few strokes, and Don's eyes fluttered, but then Mac let him go and took a step back.

To Flack's eyes, Mac was a muscular wet dream come to life, and he no longer cared what the 'but I'm straight!' part of his brain had to say. He fumbled hurriedly with his pants, cursing when they didn't seem to want to come off, and suddenly Mac sank to his knees on the cushion and expertly tugged Flack's pants and boxers down to his ankles. Before Flack could move, speak, or even think, Mac placed steadying hands on his friend's thighs, aimed, and swallowed him whole.

Flack's eyes rolled back into his head. "God…" he moaned, his hands finding Mac's hair of their own volition as Mac swirled his tongue around the head before plunging down to bury his nose in Flack's pubic hair, and Flack's knees trembled. He honestly thought that it was the best sex of his life, and it was only a blowjob.

His entire frame of existence shrank down to that soft, skilled mouth on his cock. Flack had thought the Marine to be as straight as they came (until the other day, anyway), but Mac definitely knew his way around a dick. It was all Flack could do to stay upright as Mac engulfed his rod and pulled back, swallow and release, in and out, and Flack groaned.

Suddenly Mac pulled away from the detective's iron-hard length, pumping it casually with his hand and looking up with his sharp hazel eyes. "Sit down, Don," he said calmly. "Your legs are too long for this to be comfortable."

An unexpected tug on Flack's arm caused the leggy detective to lose his balance and fall sideways, onto the couch and into the waiting arms of Danny. Without a word, the Italian began pulling the shirt from Flack's shoulders as Mac finished tugging off his pants and shoes. When he was finally naked, Mac scooted to between his knees and took him down his throat again. Flack would've jumped off the couch if Danny hadn't bent down and started nosing a nipple. The Italian's free hand ran teasing fingers through the concentrated tangle of hair on Flack's chest to torment the other tiny bundle of nerves, and Flack's hips bucked despite himself.

"God, you two…" he moaned. "Ease up, I haven't had anything but my hand for weeks."

Mac flicked his eyes to Danny and jerked his head in a 'come here' gesture, and Danny nodded back. The Italian released Flack's nipples and followed the thin line of hair bisecting Flack's torso all the way down to the navel, pausing to give it a brief yet thorough tonguing before he slid down to suck gently at the root of Flack's cock.

Okay, he'd been wrong. _This_ was the best sex he'd ever had. Mac took Flack down his throat again, and Danny whined at him. When Mac pulled back up, Danny leaned forward and tried to either kiss Mac or take Flack's dick for himself, or both—Flack couldn't be sure—but it had the effect of both men swirling tongues across the head of his weeping rod, and Flack could have died a happy man right there.

Lying comfortably on the couch, Danny and the kneeling Mac maintained eye contact with their victim as they took turns swallowing him down to the root, and the detective was all but howling. A long, steady noise not unlike a moan resonated from Flack's throat, and his two lovers sped up their movements.

Something like words attempted to distinguish themselves out of Flack's vocalizations, and both Danny and Mac struggled playfully to be the one to plant lips around the head of his dick as his hips bucked of their own accord. His hands shot out, one finding Mac's hair and the other finding Danny's as he tightly closed his eyes and took a deep breath and let out a long, loud groan as he came, Mac and Danny dueling with lips and tongue to swallow as much of the detective's essence as they could.

Danny won the little private contest and wrapped his lips around Flack's cock, sliding halfway down and sucking powerfully, and Flack's moan became almost a scream as Mac compensated by fondling his balls. The moment seemed to go on forever; Flack could feel every single pulse of his length as it sent the salty fluid pumping down Danny's willing throat, and his brain went into overload as he bucked and twitched and howled.

Mac released his balls and tapped Danny on the shoulder, and the Italian released Flack's spent cock with a whine. The two men pressed their lips together, tongues dueling again, sharing the taste of Flack's seed, and if Don hadn't just come the sight would have made him hard as hell again. "Jesus, you two… take it easy!" he gasped.

They pulled apart with a loud slurping sound, and Mac chuckled at the spent detective. Casually he rested a forearm on one of Flack's knees and propped his chin up on it. "Now, was that honestly that bad, Don?"

Flack couldn't contain a full-body shudder as the last wave of his orgasm rolled through him. "Fuck, Mac, that was the best damn blowjob I've ever had!"

"You're welcome," Mac replied almost cheerfully.

Flack looked between Mac and Danny. "So, now what?"

Mac gave a casual shrug, his chin still on his forearm and a small smile on his face. "Well, Danny is the only one that's still wearing clothes. We can get him naked, for starters."

Danny sat up and yanked his shirt over his head, then kicked off his shoes. As he began to shimmy out of his tight jeans, Flack couldn't help reaching out to tweak a nipple, and Danny paused to moan. "Good idea," Mac remarked. "Tell you what, you play with Danny for a while. I'll be right back."

Flack no longer cared as much about how absurd the situation was as he fell upon a naked Danny, running hands along the slim athlete's stomach, tweaking nipples, kissing his neck, and Danny squirmed and moaned on the couch. Flack no longer thought it was disgusting to be sucking on another guy's cock—or another guy's nipple, which was what he was doing to Danny right now—but actually kinda hot.

Flack had been clueless before, wondering if it was okay to do this or not do that, and then he realized: he didn't have to guess! He was a guy, and these were guys, and they all had the same parts. No guessing needed, just grab something and have fun. A load of nerves lifted from Flack's shoulders as he got bold and ran his tongue from Danny's collarbone all the way down to his navel.

"That's the spirit," Mac said encouragingly as he padded back into the living room, carrying things in his hands. Flack lifted his head far enough to see a short string of condoms and a bottle of something. "Lube," Mac explained.

Flack felt the nerves hit him all over again.

Mac noticed. "You want to try it, Don? Fucking a man?"

Flack glanced at Danny, who looked right back, the blue eyes meeting. "You wanna try fuckin' me?" Danny asked seriously.

Flack's cock swelled at the thought of pinning down the incredibly hot Italian and ravishing him, but something else made Flack shake his head. "I want Mac to fuck me," he repeated. Strange, how badly he _did_ want the Marine to fuck him. "But I guess I need somebody else to warm me up."

"As if you ain't hot enough already," Danny teased. "But I know what ya meant."

"Maybe you could do both," Mac suggested idly, and Flack froze at the prospect of being in the middle of that big, meaty sandwich.

"The one in the middle always has the most fun," Danny agreed.

Mac chuckled at that. "Danny, get yourself ready. I'll work on Don," he said quietly, passing the lube so Danny could get a generous helping. Danny promptly turned so that he was on all fours with his ass to Flack. Danny bent down so that his face was on the cushions, one hand reaching behind himself to give Flack an eyeful of the Italian's finger rimming himself before teasing one finger through the tight ring of muscle.

As Flack watched, his dick definitely hard, Danny fingered himself, stretching the guardian muscle open, the Italian mewling and groaning with every thrust of his fingers. Flack never thought he'd be aroused by the sight of another man fingering himself, but his opinion changed as Danny jerked and moaned, his fingers obviously onto something good.

Flack jumped a little as Mac settled onto the couch behind him, running a calming hand over his shoulder. "I'll stop any time you want me to," Mac murmured. When Flack didn't respond, Mac leaned forward to press his lips to his friend's neck as the hand traced slowly down, pausing just above the cleft of his ass. Flack's legs trembled under him, unused to the sensations. "Easy, Don," Mac soothed. "You don't have to do this."

Flack shook his head nervously, surprising himself by leaning forward and bracing his hand on the back of the couch, giving Mac a better angle. "I want this," he insisted, his voice cracking. "I want… I want you to do it."

Mac tilted his head at that, but didn't say anything else. He simply removed his hand to give the fingers a nice coating of lube. He capped it and set it on the coffee table, reaching for Flack again. "Just relax," Mac whispered, one finger teasing the clenched pucker. "I can't get in if you're tense like that."

"Turn your head and cough," Danny joked, and Mac chuckled. Flack made a face but also made a conscious effort to relax.

He didn't quite control a wince as Mac's finger began sliding slowly in. "So, when exactly is this supposed to feel goo—_oh my God!_" Flack's back arched, jerking. "What the hell was that?!"

"Prostate," Mac said calmly.

Flack twisted around to stare at the Marine, his face a mask of disbelief. Mac just tilted his head. Flack looked back at Danny, who hadn't moved since the taller man's outburst. "Do that again," Flack urged. Mac did, and Flack yelped again, this time in pleasure.

"You like it?" Mac whispered in a husky tone, his arousal beginning to get the better of him upon the sight of Flack's face twisted in lust.

"…Yeah." Flack braced himself, surprising Mac by pushing back against that finger. Mac gave a mental shrug and began to slowly work a second finger in, and the tall detective gave a throaty moan.

Mac took his time, stretching and scissoring his fingers gently, trying to make it easy for his friend. He remembered being on the other end of this situation not too long ago, and recalled Horatio having had to use all four fingers to stretch Mac out before Mac could take a replica of his own dick. Then again, Mac had thicker fingers than Horatio. He didn't envy what Flack was about to go through, and brushed Flack's prostate again as though in a premature apology.

He was right; as he began to work a third finger in, Flack's groans began to go from pleasure to something else. "Danny," Mac said softly, and Danny paused in his wild finger-fucking. "Danny, take Don, would you?"

Danny nodded and turned around to get Flack ready. He gave the detective's cock a thorough tongue bath before leaning back and tearing open a condom wrapper, rolling the Latex onto Flack's erection. Flack twitched as Danny slathered the shaft with lube and turned around again, presenting his ass invitingly. "Just go slow, Flack," Danny cautioned as he began slowly backing up toward the raven-haired man.

Flack nodded and took a deep breath, and Mac paused in his stretching to allow Flack to place his cock at Danny's entrance and began to push slowly in. "Holy fuck, Messer," Flack breathed as he pressed forward, Danny sliding back to meet him until the Italian could feel Flack's pubic hair tickling his ass.

It was different. Unlike the textured insides of a woman's core with the wet walls that gripped him at every square inch, fucking a man was something else. The insides were smooth, so silky smooth, and hot, and the only real friction came from the tight ring of Danny's anus, that little area that gripped him and stroked him with every little movement.

Having seen Mac's dick, Flack was amazed that Danny was so tight, but then again…

"Jesus," Flack moaned, gripping Danny's hips. "Jesus fucking Christ, Messer, you're so fucking…" His cock took on a mind of its own, sliding into that wonderful heat, Danny stroking him and milking him as his hips twitched himself into the Italian. "Oh, fuck…"

That's when he felt one of Mac's broad hands on his shoulder. "Hold still a minute, Don," Mac whispered, his other hand brushing against his friend's ass. Flack's nerves attacked him again and he stilled.

"Is it gonna hurt?" Flack asked suddenly.

Mac sighed. "I won't lie to you, it probably will at first. And you wanted me to be your first time."

Flack took a deep breath as he felt the head of Mac's beer can of a dick press against his stretched entrance. Mac was wearing a condom, of course, but that was small consolation. He tried not to think about how huge the Marine was as Mac began to push into the tall detective.

Flack's eyes closed tightly as he felt his body protest the invasion. "I don't know, Mac," he started, when Danny clamped down on Flack's cock hard, and Flack couldn't help the little moan. Danny got an idea and pushed back until he could feel his ass pressing against Flack's hips, and pushed back farther, 'encouraging' Flack's virgin hole to take a little more of Mac. He pulled away and pushed back again.

"Easy, Danny," Mac cautioned in smooth tones. "Move him easy."

Danny understood and impaled himself on Flack again. Flack slid into that wonderful, soft wet heat until he was buried to the hilt… and then the presence in his rear distracted him. He tried to shift uncomfortably, but he was pinned. Danny slid a few inches away from him, and came back with little force, just enough to persuade Flack's rectum to take another quarter-inch, and Flack moaned from the combination of pleasure and pain.

It was with a strange, detached mindset that Flack catalogued the new sensations. Other than the stretched ring of his sphincter gripping Mac's monster cock, there was almost no feeling as the Marine slid slowly and carefully inside him, nothing but a strange 'filling' sensation. He appreciated Mac going slow; he really, really did. He also had a new respect for Danny, because honestly Flack wasn't sure if he could go through with this.

Mac was the hammer, Flack the nail, and Danny the board, but they were moving in reverse so that Danny was pushing Flack back onto Mac's raging erection. Mac had applied so much lube that his cock was nearly dripping, and he had done a fine job of stretching the lean detective out, but it was still Flack's first time taking a cock and the two more experienced men wanted it to be good for him.

When Mac finally got the head in, he reached forward to find and tease Flack's nipples, bending his head to press gentle lips to the back of Flack's neck, and the detective groaned even as another two inches of Mac slid inside. Mac began his own short, cautious thrusts in counter-rhythm to Danny, his hands and lips distracting Flack as much as possible. Danny could sense Flack's internal dilemma and tightened his grip on Flack's cock while he fucked the older man slowly onto Mac's thick length.

Flack's legs quaked as Mac finally slid home. Soft cursing fell from the Marine's lips as he ran appreciative hands over his old friend's back and sides, calming him, appreciating him. Flack had his hands limply resting on Danny's tailbone, his entire body shaking as he was pinned between the two men, fireworks exploding behind his eyes.

"How is it?" Mac asked quietly.

Flack took a while to find his voice. "Mac, you're fuckin' _huge_." He could feel Mac's monster cock stretching him, rearranging his insides, and it surprised him on a deep level that although the cramping was fierce and insistent, he loved it. Wanted more of it.

"So I've been told," the Marine replied with a modest smile. "I'm going to start moving, all right?"

Flack nodded as Mac pulled back scarcely an inch, and pushed back in just as far. With infinite patience, he built up a slow and steady rhythm, never leaving Flack's warmth but never pressing all the way in, either. Flack surprised himself by pushing back onto that thick rod, and his counterstrokes reminded him of Danny at his front.

They found their pace, Flack setting the movements so that he fucked himself into Danny and then pressed back against Mac. In no time at all, Flack was moaning with every stroke, sliding forward into Danny's dark warmth and back onto Mac's incredible erection, and everything else disappeared. A small part of his mind asked him why he hadn't tried this sooner, but his libido shut the little voice up and told it to enjoy being sandwiched between Mac and Danny as they fucked him and he fucked them back, each movement a rush of incredible sensation that made Flack's spine tingle.

And then, behind the wicked cramping and the undeniable pleasure, Flack noticed a new sensation: an unfamiliar soreness, as though parts of him were wearing out. "Mac?" he panted. "Mac, it's startin' ta hurt."

"I know," Mac soothed, an edge in his voice as he gripped Flack's hips tighter. "Just a little more…"

The pain rapidly escalated. "Mac, it hurts. Please…"

Mac buried himself to the hilt, resting in that blessed warmth. Then slowly, tenderly, carefully he withdrew completely, sitting back on his heels and watching Flack's abused hole 'wink' at him. Flack gave a loud moan at the sudden emptiness, relief at feeling his muscles clamp down on nothing warring with the loss of pleasure he couldn't deny. "Mac?"

"Yeah?" Mac ran soothing hands over Flack's hindquarters, showing him that there were no hard feelings.

Flack's voice cracked. "Can I have your fingers back?"

Mac chuckled. "Sure." He reached behind him for the lube and dribbled some on his hand, two fingers seeking out Flack's still-stretched hole. Flack's soreness put up a valiant fight, but in the end the pleasure of the prostate won, and he gave an unabashed groan as those two broad fingers breached him again, massaging his sweet spot and making his legs shake.

Mac got an idea, and with his free hand he encouraged Flack's hips to still. Before the detective could protest, Mac slithered to the cushion on the floor, leaned around to line up with Flack's hole, and pressed his tongue firmly inside. Flack gave a startled groan as Mac's fingers continued to milk his prostate even as that broad muscle flicked inside him, and the wave of sensation made Flack's head spin.

He found himself pushing back against those fingers, against that tongue, the unexpected pleasure making him completely forget about fucking Danny. That is, until Danny twisted around to see what the holdup was. He saw where Mac's head was, and saw the look of pure carnal pleasure on Flack's face, and gave a shrug as he pushed himself back onto Flack's dick.

Flack remembered Danny immediately, but he was almost paralyzed by the sensations coming from his ass. Smiling to themselves, Mac and Danny took their time, fucking Flack inside and out until they heard the long, steady moan emanating from the detective's throat again. Mac doubled his efforts, his two broad fingers battering Flack's sweet spot even as Danny clamped firmly down and thrust harder, faster, and Flack was outright shaking as he came, shouting nonsense, his hips twitching himself between Danny's tight ass and Mac's sweet assault, and Flack was flying high.

It took him a while to come back to himself, twitching and shuddering. Danny had gone still and let his muscles go slack, and Mac had pulled back until there was only one finger that slid slowly out. Mac's strong hands guided Flack to sag back on his heels, pulling out of Danny. Don went a step further and collapsed completely back, his long legs carefully flopping out as to not hit the other two.

Mac started to lean over for a kiss, but Flack had recovered enough brainpower to hold up a warning finger. "Mac, that was absolutely fuckin' fantastic and I have never had better sex in my life, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you kiss me after what you just did."

Mac gave a sheepish smile and looked at Danny. "He's gotta point, Mac," Danny reasoned.

Mac tilted his head. "It didn't bother you the last time," he reminded the Italian, but Flack was adamant. Mac gave a mock sigh and settled for a hug before climbing to his feet, going to brush his teeth and clean himself off.

When he came back, Danny had peeled off Flack's condom and was currently draped over the raven-haired man like a cat, stealing Mac's kiss. Mac bent down to grasp the Italian's still-hard dick as he nuzzled his way into the liplock, the three men twisting and sliding their tongues together.

Finally Flack pulled back, gasping for air again. "I need a drink," he said firmly, and the two others chuckled and allowed him to slide off the couch and stagger for the chair, flopping onto it and reaching for the moist glass on the nearby table.

In the meantime, Mac settled on the couch and pulled Danny on top of him, their hands everywhere, touching, stroking, teasing. Danny had been somewhat close to orgasm when Flack had come, and twice now Mac had had to stop on Flack's account. Not that he minded, really, but damn if he didn't want it now. "I need to fuck you, Danny," Mac whispered urgently, and Danny nodded just as urgently. The Italian resumed his earlier position on the couch with his rear end aloft, begging for Mac's presence, and Mac granted it.

Mac pulled on a condom and slicked himself up again, and slid into Danny without much prelude. Flack's eyes bugged out as Danny immediately pushed back and moaned. "Fuck, Mac, fill me up," the Italian whimpered.

"Oh, I'll do more than that," Mac growled. He grabbed Danny's hips, swung his outer leg so that it was on the floor, and leaned back. He pulled Danny with him so that Mac was on his back with Danny riding him, and the Italian gave a wail of pleasure as the new angle granted Mac even deeper access to his insides.

Mac wasn't done yet, though. He gripped Danny's ass and lifted him up enough to rest the backs of the younger man's thighs on top of his own, nearly fitting together at the knees, then slid his grip up to grasp Danny's slim waist. Danny braced his hands against Mac's biceps as the new position left him open. With his knees hanging over Mac's, he was perfectly positioned for Mac to slam _up_ into him, which he did.

Flack's jaw hit the floor; he'd barely been able to take Mac all the way, and now here he was witnessing Danny getting his brains fucked out and begging for more, pleading for Mac to fuck him harder, deeper, faster. He didn't think he was going to be able to get it up again for another hour or so, but _damn_ if he wouldn't remember this for the rest of his life. Now he knew what Danny had meant by Mac being 'for advanced players only.'

As Flack watched, a change began to come over Danny. "Mac… oh fuck, Mac, please, _Flack_!" the Italian was howling under Mac's steady assault.

Flack came over, still unsure of himself. "Waddaya need?"

Danny's eyes were tightly closed, his words incoherent. "Flack, fuckin'… _please_!"

Flack was wondering what hell he meant until he noticed Danny's cock pointed straight at the ceiling, nearly purple with frustration.

_Oh._

He did the only thing he could think of and climbed back onto the couch. There was just enough room for Flack to kneel at Mac and Danny's feet, and the tall detective put a hesitant hand on one of Danny's knees, the other hand reaching for the straining erection. The moment he touched it, Danny howled and bucked his hips.

Determined to not just be the newbie, Flack leaned forward and took the tip of Danny's length in his mouth, letting Mac's thrusts bring the Italian's rod farther into Flack's mouth. Danny was infinitely easier to suck on than Mac, but Don could still only take Danny so far before his gag reflex began to protest.

It was enough, though. Danny stiffened and gave a strained, incoherent shout as he came around Mac's pounding cock, his length shooting the white streamers that slapped against the back of Flack's throat. Flack coughed and almost gagged, but he steeled himself and managed to take the entire load in his mouth. The taste was so mind-bendingly sweet on the front of his tongue, so insanely salty on the back, that scarcely had Danny emptied his balls than Flack made himself swallow, coughing hard and unintentionally splattering half of it on Danny's stomach.

Danny didn't seem to mind, though, and neither did Mac; as Danny came and caught Mac in that almost painfully tight grip, the heat surrounding his cock in its fiery embrace, Mac slammed into Danny one last time, nearly gagging Flack again on Danny's cock, the Marine growling and releasing his seed in pulsing waves that gave him the sudden, nearly blinding desire to rip his condom off and fill Danny completely.

Mac fought back the desire and instead concentrated on Danny, until the Marine's orgasm finally gave his mind back to him. Danny's arms wobbled, and gently Mac eased the younger man down until he sat in the Marine's lap, Mac still buried in him. Mac released his hips to slide his arms up, wrapping the Italian in a firm embrace, pressing his lips to the sweating shoulder. He allowed himself to revel in the feeling of just being so _close_ to Danny, holding him inside and out. Protecting him. Possessing him.

Flack felt a sudden urge to be a part of that embrace and he crawled to the two, kneeling between Danny's legs. Danny was still out of his mind with post-coital bliss, but Mac reached for the ebon-haired detective and kissed him hard, the broad tongue sweeping Flack's mouth to claim every scrap of Danny's essence, and Flack felt his knees go weak again.

A sudden gasp at Flack's side broke the two apart; Danny had his hands on Flack's shoulders and was pushing him away, struggling to breathe. Mac chuckled and arched his back against the couch cushions, allowing his softening dick to finally slip out of the Italian, and Danny moaned at the loss. To Mac's surprise, Flack took the opportunity to reach underneath the blond and peel Mac's condom off, staggering for the bathroom as he went.

When he came back from tossing the condom and taking a piss, he found Mac and Danny almost exactly where he'd left them. Danny was curled up on the couch with his upper half in Mac's lap like a sleeping cat; Mac was even stroking his hair gently, a tender smile on his face. The Marine looked up as Flack padded quietly back into the room.

Danny cracked an eye open; evidently he wasn't asleep after all. "So how was it?"

Flack grabbed his drink from the chair-side table and made his way to the couch, sitting carefully and largely unsuccessful at hiding his wince. "Not bad," he admitted after a while. "I mean, fuck, it was _great_, but Mac definitely takes some gettin' used to. And I ain't gonna be able to sit comfortable for a week."

"Told ya," Danny mumbled, snuggling into Mac's leg.

Mac chuckled. "Don, does that mean that you'd like to do this again sometime?"

Flack thought about that. "Yeah, I think I do. If ya don't mind, that is."

Danny didn't even open his eyes this time. "Does it look like we mind?" he muttered, his words slightly muffled by his face pressed against Mac's skin.

Flack gave the Italian a funny look before flicking his eyes up to Mac. "Before ya say anythin' else, Mac, what happens at your apartment _stays_ at your apartment."

"Agreed." Mac watched him for a moment, thinking. Then, "So where are you sleeping tonight?"

Flack coughed around his beer, which by now bordered on warm. "I'm goin' home. Why, you wantin' me to stay over?"

Mac tilted his head. "Wherever you'd be most comfortable."

"Well, uhh…" Flack took another drink, decided that hot vodka was nasty as fuck, and set the drink back down. "No offense, Mac, but I don't think I'd wanna sleep with ya. I mean, I work with you two an' all."

Mac nodded. "No problem."

Flack gave a sudden grin. "I won't say anythin' about you and Messer there if you'll do me one favor."

Mac blinked. "What kind of favor?"

Flack glanced at the floor. "Make sure I don't go another two weeks with nothin' but my hand?"

Mac reared his head back and laughed quietly. Danny gave a sleepy chuckle, fighting the urge to just fall asleep draped over Mac. "It's a deal, pal," the Italian mumbled.

They even shook on it.

FOUR MONTHS LATER  
Mac's apartment

Danny woke up, cold. Furrowing his brows in confusion, he glanced over at Mac's side of the bed. Empty. He glanced at the clock, noticed that it was too early for the Marine to be awake, and he didn't hear the toilet or the shower.

He heard something else, though. Sliding out of bed, Danny followed the odd noises until he recognized the sound as an acoustic guitar. He slid on his jeans before he padded down the hall, peering around the corner to the living room.

Mac had put on a pair of loose drawstring gym pants and was perched on the arm of the couch, sitting sideways to Danny's point of view. He had his acoustic guitar in his lap, and was picking the chords softly and nodding with the beat. Listening, Danny was eventually able to recognize Beethoven's _Für Elise_. For reasons incomprehensible to Danny, Mac was inordinately fond of classical music—and even the opera—in addition to jazz and the blues.

Danny thought for a moment. _Für Elise_ was a love song.

_Mac couldn't…he couldn't be thinking of _me_, could he?_

"Danny?" Mac had glanced over, noticing him.

"Oh, hey," Danny said sheepishly. "I got cold."

Mac gave a little smile; he could never get out of bed, for any reason, without Danny waking up from being cold. From a scientific standpoint, it was probably because Danny seemed to think that Mac was the only cover the Italian would need, and often piled all the bedsheets on Mac's side. From the emotional standpoint… Danny was sleeping over a lot more often lately, and even in his sleep he seemed to follow Mac around the room.

Claire had done the same thing.

It was this thought that caused Mac's calloused fingertips to find the chords subconsciously, his other hand picking the strings, keeping the song going. The way Mac was looking at him, Danny didn't think the Marine was doing it on purpose.

And if Danny was to ask, Mac wasn't sure who he was playing the song for. Claire, or Danny.

Mac seemed to snap out of it, laying his palm over the strings to silence them. He stared hard at his hands for a moment, looking for all the world like he was about to start questioning their motives.

"Hey, Mac?"

Mac glanced over; Danny had curled up in the recliner, watching him. "Play somethin' else, would ya?"

Mac cocked his head, thinking. Then he smiled. "Ben played this the other night." Ben was the pianist in Mac's little after-work band.

As Danny listened, Mac began to play a little waltz. It started off slow and almost jerky, to Danny's surprise, but it slowly sped up, giving him the feeling that he was dancing in slow circles. Danny gave up analyzing it and just allowed himself to get lost within the music that made him feel like he was standing and turning in a circle while staring at the sky. It was amazing, the effect that Mac's music had on him. Not just anybody's music, but _Mac's_.

Mac was actually a rather good guitarist. He played bass with his music buddies, but he was also gifted with talent for the acoustic. Rarely did Mac spend a lot of money on himself, but his guitars were the exception, and he owned several good-quality instruments. Mac's favorite bass was an Ibanez. Right now, though, he was playing his Martin. _He should go on tour or somethin'. He's good._

Danny's eyes flicked to the Marine's face, where Mac watched him with an unexpected, ecstatic smile. It was one of Mac's little oddities, that he got the biggest smile on his face every time he played the guitar for an appreciative audience.

For now, Danny was content to just sit there and watch and listen to Mac play. When the Marine had finished the song, Danny spoke up. "That was great, Mac. And I know what it was remindin' me of."

"Oh?" Mac tilted his head.

Danny gave a sheepish little smile. "Yeah, reminds me of my mama puttin' me on a carousel at Coney Island when I was a kid."

Mac smiled broadly. "It's perfect, then. Ben forgot to tell me who wrote it, but I think he called it _Nunley's Carousel_."

Danny tilted his head; it fit. "Hey, you comin' back to bed tonight, Mac?" he asked as he stood.

"I'll be there in a minute," Mac acknowledged, standing to put his guitar up.

As the Marine bent over, putting the guitar in its case, Danny got a sudden idea and slipped back into the bedroom.

When Mac arrived at his bed, he stopped in his tracks at the sight before him: Danny, gloriously naked, lying on his side with one hand stroking his erect cock and the other thrusting lube-slick fingers into his ass. The Marine couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips as Danny fixed his half-lidded eyes on him, licking his lips as he stroked himself inside and out, and Mac's legs twitched when the Italian found his own prostate and massaged it, stiffening on the bed and giving a loud, throaty moan.

That did it, and Mac immediately dropped his pants and climbed nimbly onto the bed. Danny barely had time to roll onto his back and spread his arms to welcome Mac home before the Marine lay down on top of his lover, capturing his lips and thrusting his tongue into that waiting mouth, claiming the wet heat.

Mac gave an aroused growl as he nipped at Danny's windpipe, the Italian mewling and writhing. "Why do I let you do this to me?" Mac rumbled, his hands all over Danny's body, feeling him, memorizing him, owning him.

"'Cause… 'cause… aw, fuck me, Mac!"

"Be glad to," Mac murmured into the younger man's neck.

Suddenly Danny pulled back. "Not like this," he insisted, and Mac cocked his head. Danny responded by encouraging the Marine to roll onto his back and then Danny straddled the broad hips, grinding Mac's dick against his ass. "I want ya like this, Mac," he moaned.

Mac nodded slowly. "I could go for this," he replied in that throaty tone as Danny reached for the condoms and the lube in the nightstand. Danny slid back on his knees, engulfing the Marine's length and getting him even harder than before, though how that was possible Mac wasn't sure. All he was aware of was Danny's hands and Danny's lips, and the condom on his dick, and the lube, and then Danny was kneeling over his midsection and aiming, and Mac gave a loud growl as the head of his dick popped past Danny's sphincter.

"Fuck, Mac," Danny whimpered as he sank fully down. "Fuck, man, I—" he started, and suddenly stopped himself from saying the words. _Fuck, man, I love you._

Mac didn't appear to notice, grasping Danny's ass and spreading the cheeks apart, holding the Italian a few inches off Mac's midsection, aiding the smooth rise and fall of his own hips that plunged him into that welcome heat. As usual, Danny was so tight, so hot, and as Mac impaled Danny as far as he could, he couldn't help the marveled whisper that he and Danny _fit_ so well, it was amazing.

Danny's perfect ass gripped him as the Italian rose and fell on his cock, his hand stroking himself, a look of sheer sexual bliss on his face. It took Mac a while to realize that Danny was quietly moaning his name with every fall of his hips, his eyes closed, his mind somewhere in the clouds. Mac gripped that ass and thrust a little harder, fucking the younger man's mind out of him, replacing it with himself.

It surprised the hell out of Mac when he felt his orgasm rising even though Danny hadn't come yet. He clenched those firm, perfect ass cheeks with his broad hands and growled as he bucked his hips, thrusting harder, deeper, and then he was snarling Danny's name as he buried himself and he came, hard. Danny clamped down on him with something almost like surprise, milking his cock, and then Danny was coming around him, crying Mac's name and shooting his seed all over the Marine's broad chest, peristaltic contractions sending Mac spinning farther into erotic ecstasy.

Danny leaned down to kiss Mac with the Marine still buried in him, and the feeling of his lips dancing across Mac's was light and sweet, tender and loving. "That was great, Mac," he panted.

Mac nodded, his brain still foggy. "Can't remember the last time I came first," he muttered.

"Neither can I," Danny agreed, finally releasing Mac with a sigh before sinking down beside him. The older man took the time to peel off his condom and drop it in the small wastebasket beside his bed.

Mac smiled tenderly at the Italian snuggled up next to him. Even though they were the same height, the differences in build made Danny seem so much smaller than Mac and he couldn't help wrapping an arm around Danny's waist, his other hand running caressing fingers over the younger man's shoulders.

"Mm, Jesus," Danny whispered, clinging to the Marine and nuzzling the thick neck. "Mac, I love—"

Mac went rigid.

Danny thought frantically. "I _love_ layin' here like this," he covered.

Mac allowed himself to run his hands down Danny's back, appreciating him, but much of the caressing motion had disappeared. Danny knew that Mac had become suddenly, immensely uncomfortable, and the Italian had a feeling that he'd blown everything.

Danny laid a hand across Mac's stomach. "G'night, Mac," he whispered, pretending to drop off to sleep.

Mac was quiet for a long time. "Good night, Danny."

It took a while for Mac to fall asleep, but he woke at his usual time. What surprised him was that Danny was already awake.

Either that, or he was fondling Mac in his sleep. The older man lay there, amazed that the Italian was not only coherent before _Mac_ was but also that Danny was apparently ready for another round, and the Marine couldn't help a chuckle. "Do you ever get tired?"

Danny nuzzled Mac's shoulder. "Of you? Never."

A lazy smile crossed Mac's face, before it was shadowed by the implications of that statement and what Danny had almost said during the night. Mac forced a chuckle. "I'm amazed that I still find time to sleep," he said wryly, starting to climb out of bed.

He was stopped by Danny slithering on top of him. "Mornin'," Danny murmured, stealing a quick kiss as he lay between Mac's legs and positioned his arms carefully on the Marine's ribcage to prop his chin in his hands.

Mac blinked. "Good morning, Danny." He was more accustomed to Danny's sometimes aggressive signs of affection than he should be, Mac realized. And last night, had Danny _really_ been about to say what Mac thought he'd been about to say?

_Can I love another man?_ Mac wondered as he stared into those crystal blue eyes. _Can I love Danny?_

They remained perfectly civil (and sometimes a little antagonistic) at work, but at home… it was all kisses and hugs and frantic sex and quiet cuddles. Mac wasn't much of the cuddling type, but Danny was like a cat: anywhere he could drape himself and still get petted, he was happy.

And it wasn't always at Mac's apartment. Every now and then, Mac slept over at Danny's. It was maybe once or twice a week that both men slept in their own beds, and Danny always hated those nights because he had trouble sleeping alone. Mac did, too, but he wasn't about to admit it.

"Hey, you gonna go runnin', eh?" Danny asked him, cutting through his thoughts.

Mac blinked a few times. "Yeah. I was just thinking."

Danny crossed his arms on Mac's chest and rested his chin on his wrists. "Yeah? 'Bout what?"

Mac gave a self-amused snort. "You."

A dazzling smile spread across Danny's handsome face, the kind of smile that made Mac's heart stir though for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Danny leaned closer, still giving that radiant look. "What about me, eh?"

Mac chuckled and folded his hands behind his head, staring back into those incredible blue eyes and that incredible smile. "When you're like this. It's amazing, that you can be comfortable _anywhere_."

Danny shrugged modestly. "Hey, I don't need much. Just somebody comfy to lay on, ya know?"

Mac's mouth twitched. "I don't recall ever being called 'comfy.' In fact, I remember you complaining a few weeks ago about how I was all sharp corners and hard surfaces."

"You can be comfy when you wanna be," Danny argued. "B'sides, all them sharp corners and hard surfaces? Hot as fuck." The compliment was spoiled when Danny's face split into a massive yawn.

"You know, I thought that was an act," Mac said dryly. Danny made a sleepy grumble and rested his head on Mac's chest, and the Marine found himself stroking the dirty-blond hair. "I still can't believe you were awake before I was."

Danny shrugged, fighting the urge to just melt into Mac's touch. "I didn't sleep," he mumbled into the warm, hard ribcage below him.

Mac blinked. "You didn't? Why?"

Danny shrugged again. "I was thinkin' hard 'bout somethin', but I guess I shouldn't'a been worryin', eh?"

Mac's hand stilled, moving to Danny's shoulder. "Danny," he murmured, and he waited until the Italian was looking at him. "I know what you were going to say last night, and it caught me by surprise. I… I don't know about it, I just don't. Part of me wants to agree with you, and part of me remembers… her."

Her. Danny knew who Mac was referring to, and he kept his face perfectly still.

Mac went on. "What I do know is that this, _right here_… I like. I could get used to it, I think. Just… give me some more time, okay?"

Danny gave a feline smile as he stretched and yawned again, then pressed another gentle kiss to Mac's lips. "Take all the time ya need, big guy. I'll let you say it first, aright?"

Mac felt an invisible weight leave his shoulders. "Thanks, Danny," he whispered.

Danny lay there for a few more minutes, basking in the muscular warmth beneath him, before he finally rolled onto his side and released the Marine. "Grab your shower, Mac. I'll get the coffee runnin'."

SEVERAL HOURS LATER

"It was so weird, Mac," Stella murmured. The two were walking down the street, on their way to grab a quick hot dog from a corner vendor. "He was watching me, like he… like he wanted something from me. He was stalking me."

Mac rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. "So what happened?"

Stella gave a nervous sigh, allowing the touch to ease her worries a little. Mac had always been a good friend to her, and she'd never once asked for anything more than that. For starters, he was such a closed-off guy, and secondly, he was her _friend_. There was just something about him, though, that made her feel safe.

"Stel?"

Her head popped up, unaware that she'd even been staring into the ground. God, this kid had her frazzled, whoever he was. "Sorry, Mac," she muttered, giving a quick shake of her head. "I pointed him out to Danny, and when the kid saw that, he ran."

The corners of Mac's mouth quirked. "Danny didn't catch him." It wasn't a question.

Stella grunted in frustration. "No, he jumped onto a bus."

"Well, did you get a good look at him?" They were approaching the hot dog vendor, and Mac reached around his left hip to grab his wallet. He kept it on the left side so that he didn't show his gun and scare the pedestrians every time he needed to pay for something.

Stella glanced briefly at the sky, her eyes flitting around the street without really seeing anything as she sorted the brief flashes of her stalker's face. "White male, early twenties, about 5'5", 5'6", yellow hoodie…"

Mac glanced at her. "Anything else?"

Stella wasn't looking at him. She was staring into the crowd. "Yellow hoodie," she murmured absently. Mac followed her gaze, and his sharp eyes locked onto a young man fitting the description of Stella's stalker, leaning against a lamppost. To say that the boy was nervous was an understatement; he couldn't have been more obvious had he been sitting on a park bench, staring at Stella through a newspaper with eyeholes cut out. "That's him, Mac."

Mac fixed the young man in his gaze, studying his features in a split-second, memorizing the face. The kid's gaze flicked from Stella to Mac, and he froze. He knew he'd been made, and he turned and bolted. Mac sprang into motion, weaving through the crowd with surprising agility.

This stalker may have been able to outrun Danny, but he was no match for an ex-infantryman like Mac.

The Marine ate up the distance between them in smooth, long strides, knowing that his physical build and his pace would wear him out much more slowly than the rabbit-like darting of his quarry. Desperately the kid dashed across the street, nearly getting clobbered by a taxi, but the split-second hesitation was enough for Mac to get right on his heels.

The boy made his last fatal mistake and leapt into the path of a bicyclist on the sidewalk, nearly causing the man to wreck. The kid stumbled, and that was enough for Mac to seize hold of the kid's hoodie and whirl him to face the Marine as he slammed the young man up against a nearby wall.

The kid was young, breathless, and a bit scared. "Who are you?" Mac growled. "Why are you following her?"

'Her' came jogging up a few seconds later, slightly winded from the chase. The kid looked straight at Stella. "Are you Claire Conrad?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Mac's grip slackened, incredulous. "Claire Conrad _Taylor_?" he asked slowly.

The kid gave a hesitant nod.

Mac backed off, his hands now hanging loosely at his sides. Quietly he gazed at the young man. "She was my wife."

A FEW HOURS LATER

"Hey, Mac," Danny greeted as he unlocked the door of the Marine's apartment. He and Mac had exchanged duplicates of their keys a few weeks ago, which had enabled Danny to have some nice surprises waiting for his lover whenever Mac finally was persuaded to leave the lab. Today, though, he was surprised to see that Mac was already home.

Danny's brows furrowed; Mac was just sitting on the couch, staring at the TV even though the unit wasn't even on. "Mac?"

The Marine finally glanced over. "Hey, Danny," he said blandly.

Danny could hear the alarm bells ringing in his head as he stepped over to the older man, laying his jacket over the back of the couch and sinking down next to the muscular body, and Mac allowed the Italian to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

Danny knew this cagey behavior; he'd last seen it when he'd wandered into the living room and found Mac clutching a beach ball in the middle of the night, several months ago. Danny knew that something had happened today, and that something had brought up some old memories that left the Marine sitting at home, alone, suffering in silence.

"Hey, Mac, you okay?" Danny asked cautiously.

Mac leaned back into his couch with a heavy sigh. "I met someone today. He… he and I have something in common."

Danny cocked his head and sat next to Mac, one hand on the Marine's knee. "Yeah? Anythin' you wanna talk about?"

Mac just stared at the hand on his leg. "He's Claire's son," he murmured. He felt the hand flinch. "She had him before I met her, and gave him up for adoption. She was pretty young at the time. And now that he's 18, he went looking for her."

Feeling oddly possessive without knowing why, Danny scooted closer to Mac and laid an arm over his shoulder. "Keep goin'."

Mac did not relax into the embrace, as the Italian had hoped. Instead, he seemed to get even more tense. "His name is Reed. Reed Garrett. I had a cup of coffee with him, and I asked him if he wanted to talk. He said he didn't, because I wasn't the one he was looking for."

Danny felt his heart snag at the Marine's pent-up sorrow and did his best to rub the older man's shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered. What else could he say?

And then, selfishly, he began to feel dread. Claire's son appearing… what sort of memories would this dredge up for Mac? And would it close the Marine's heart off from Danny again? There was something distinctly wrong, in the Italian's eyes, about having to compete with a dead woman.

Mac's face took on the look that it normally did when he was doing some long, hard thinking. Finally he spoke, quietly. "I get the feeling sometimes that I'm not doing the right thing. That I'm dishonoring her memory."

A cold knot began to form in Danny's stomach. "Whaddaya mean?" he asked cautiously, hoping that his voice cracking wasn't quite as audible to Mac as it was to him.

The Marine wouldn't look at him. "By being with another man. By being with you."

"Mac, I…"

"What am I supposed to tell Reed, if he ever wants to see me again?" Mac asked suddenly. "That his mother is dead, but now I've moved on and I'm sleeping with a man? With my subordinate?"

Danny resisted the urge to clutch desperately at the older man's shoulders. "Ya don't have to tell 'im anything, Mac," he reasoned. He remembered Horatio's words to him. "Ya like what ya like, and that's all there is to it."

"It's still wrong," Mac insisted quietly. "If only for the reason that I'm your boss, Danny."

"Hey, you've done me no favors that you didn't do for anybody else, Mac," Danny countered. "Ya even took me off the promotion grid for a while, remember? You've been treatin' me just like everybody else. As far as the rest o' the lab knows, I ain't one of your favorites."

Mac gave a world-weary sigh, as though he was making the hardest decision of his life, a decision that Danny desperately didn't want him to have to make. "Danny, I think I need a break."

Danny tried hard to keep his heart out of his throat. "A break from what?"

"From you. From _us_. I just need some time to think." Mac still wouldn't look at him, but just stared at the wall, his face as expressionless as a statue.

Danny shrank away from the Marine, one desperate hand still clinging to Mac's shoulder. "So this is it, huh?"

Mac nodded. "For now," he agreed dispassionately. "I'm not saying that it's over, and I'm not saying that it isn't. And don't blame yourself for anything. The problem isn't you, it's me."

_It's always been you_, Danny wanted to growl, but he didn't want to do anything to upset the Marine even more. "So what now? I just go home and pretend that we ain't been sleepin' together for th' last nine-odd months?"

Finally, a reaction: Mac's eyebrows flicked. "Has it really been that long?"

Danny nodded, feeling like his stomach had sank about three feet. "Nine months since we first hooked up."

Mac's face may as well have been carved from granite. "And you remember the conditions of that first night, don't you? That this is sex, nothing more."

Danny was startled to realize that his free hand was clenched into a fist, shaking. "Nothin' more? What about the time that Horatio came up here, and you guys went and did that thing, and then everything was all right again? What the hell happened to that?"

Mac's eyebrows came together slightly. "That was something that shouldn't have happened in the first place."

Danny stood, looking like he'd been punched in the stomach. He wanted to say something, anything, a lot of things, but no sound would come out of his mouth.

Mac finally turned to look at him, his eyes as cold and detached as when he studied a corpse. "Go home, Danny. I'll see you at work tomorrow." There was nothing left for Danny to do but get his jacket and leave, blinking back the tears as he left Mac's apartment without a backward glance.

Mac sat on the couch for a long time, staring at the closed door. Part of him was satisfied, as though everything was at it should be. Part of him wanted to be angry, to scream and throw things. It was the largest part of him, however, that wanted to weep.

_What have I done?_

What you should have done from the beginning. It wasn't right and you know it.

It felt_ right. It felt good._

You're his boss! And he's a man, like you! And think about Claire!

Mac grumbled and banished his thoughts, standing and heading to the bathroom to prepare for bed. Now was not the time to think he was hearing voices, even if they were right. He brushed his teeth and flicked off the lights and headed for the bedroom.

He stripped down to his shorts and climbed into bed, turning off the light. It was far too quiet in here, and he was surprised at how cold he was. That was stupid; he'd slept alone long before Danny came along and he'd never been too cold to sleep. Right now, however, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that something was missing from the pillow next to him.

Mac had just started dozing when a memory flitted across his consciousness, a memory of a warm body next to his and a hand that ghosted across his hip before reaching for his cock.

His eyes popped wide open, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't tell if that hand was Danny's or Claire's, and that bothered him. He rolled onto his other side, facing away from his empty bed. He tried to go to sleep again but the vision insisted that he remember being slowly fondled awake.

Danny's hand, this morning. Despite Mac's inner growl at the memory, it refused to leave him alone. He wanted to deny it, to banish it so he could go to sleep, but he couldn't.

It was with a resigned sigh that Mac's hand traveled down to his own length, which had hardened almost against his will. He stroked himself through the fabric, remembering the delicious feel of Danny's lips around his cock. He bit back a moan as he finally freed his erection from the confines of his shorts, leaning up to grab some lube from the nightstand before laying on his back, slicking up his cock and running his hand along it, teasing, tormenting.

He closed his eyes and bit his lip, remembering the feel of Danny's tight, hot, perfect ass wrapped around his dick last night. He remembered the look of pure, utter ecstasy on the Italian's face as he rode Mac, their flesh slapping together, their chests heaving. He remembered thrusting his cock into Danny one last time, growling his name, filling his condom with his essence, and Mac remembered the wild moan when Danny had come around him, remembered the painfully tight grip that the younger man had clenched him with during his own glorious climax.

Mac gave another growl as he felt his orgasm rising there and then, his hand moving along his length in frantic strokes, and then he was coming, his cock sputtering the thick white globs that rained down on his taut pectorals like lazy shotgun pellets. He lay there, catching his breath, as the visions continued.

He remembered Danny curled up next to him, sated, and start to say those three little words. The Italian hadn't finished his sentence that morning, but in Mac's mind now, he did.

_"I love ya, Mac."_

And then Mac remembered Claire.

It was with a sound like a wounded animal, full of anguish and frustration, that Mac rolled onto his side. For once, Mac ignored the mess as he tried to shut his mind down and fall asleep.

His bed was cold.  
He was awake for a long time.

_Wham! Wham! Wham!_

Flack's head popped up at the pounding on his door. It was late, and he'd been just about to go to bed. He pulled himself from the couch, scratching his chest absently through his old NYPD T-shirt and wiping his Doritos fingers on his sweatpants.

He pulled the door open, and was surprised to see who was on the other side. "Messer, the hell are you doin' here?"

Danny seemed 'off' to Flack. He wasn't his usual scrappy self. No, the Italian was calm, focused, and about as energetic as, well, as Mac usually was. "Mind if I come in?" Danny asked quietly. He entered without waiting for a reply, and Flack's gaze flicked from the Italian to his door as though checking to see that there weren't any dents.

As Danny moved across the room to take Flack's spot on the couch, Flack frowned. Danny's movements were jerky, wooden, with none of the usual energy. His eyes were cold and dead, a slightly haunted look at the edges.

It was like… Danny's soul had died.

Flack sat next to Danny, feeling his rather insensitive dick begin to wake up at the Italian's proximity. True to their word, Mac and Danny had indeed kept their promise to the detective and had invited him over from time to time, giving him sweaty nights that he would never forget.

This time, though… it was just Danny, and it _wasn't_ at Mac's apartment. "Messer, what's goin' on?" Flack asked again, sensing that something wasn't quite right and wishing his dick would behave so he could think. "Where's Mac?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Danny said suddenly. "I just want ya to fuck my goddamn brains out. Can ya do that? Please?"

Flack blinked; Danny never said 'please' to him, and Mac had _always_ been around for their little get-togethers. Something was wrong. "I guess," he agreed slowly. He felt his libido give an almost triumphant cackle as his cock surged in his sweatpants.

"You ain't gonna tell me what's goin' on, are ya?" Flack asked as he slid his shirt over his head.

"Nope." That was the only answer Danny gave as he slid off his own clothing, then sat on the couch just as dispassionately as before. Flack furrowed his brows at Danny's sullen attitude, then thought of something guaranteed to bring the Italian out of his funk. He placed a hand on his own dick, stroking it, and waited until Danny finally glanced over at him.

"Ya wanna suck on it?" Flack asked coyly.

To his surprise, Danny shook his head. "Sorry, pal, not in the mood. I just wanna get fucked, eh?"

Flack showed his disappointment. He'd been looking forward to Danny's lips around his cock, but he didn't want to push it. Danny was in a weird enough mood as was. And so Flack stroked himself to full hardness while Danny prepared his own entrance, and then Danny lay on his back on the couch while Flack crawled between his knees and slid inside.

Inwardly, Danny was just as disappointed. While Flack _did_ have nearly an inch over Mac's length, he had nowhere near the Marine's girth, and Danny was used to Mac's beer can of a dick pistoning in and out of him. Oh, Danny moaned and writhed, of course; the last thing he wanted was for Flack to think he was a boring fuck. He lay there with his legs around Flack's waist and moaned and stroked himself and tried not to think of Mac.

Flack's face was pure ecstasy. Mac and Danny had introduced him to the pleasures of fucking another man, and the Italian was a damn good lay. Danny was so friggin' tight, he must do his Kiegels. And so Flack thrust hard into that hot ass, his hips slapping against the Italian as Danny's legs squeezed him tighter, Danny's hand a blur on his own dick, and for the second time in 24 hours, Danny felt his partner coming first.

Flack stiffened and let out a long, rolling groan as he came, filling his condom, and then it was almost with a resigned sigh that Danny came around Flack, moaning and avoiding saying any names. It was too painful.

It was over just like that. Flack sagged back and peeled off his condom, standing to find a place to throw it away and to clean himself off, while Danny just lay there and idly wiped the semen off his belly with a finger, licking the slim digits and trying not to think of Mac's tongue.

It hadn't worked. Danny had been fucked, and he was still thinking of the Marine. At least he could think straight now, and he knew exactly what his next step should be.

Flack came back from getting cleaned up, just in time to see Danny finish getting dressed. At Flack's dumbfounded look, Danny just gave a quiet shrug. "Thanks for the fuck, Flack. See ya tomarra."

And then he was gone, leaving Don Flack to stare at his closed door, still naked and still wondering _what the hell is going on?_

Danny stumbled into his apartment and tossed his jacket in the general direction of some furniture. A low growl rumbled up through his throat, and Danny curled his lips in a snarl as he walked into his living room and slammed a fist into his couch. And another one. And again. Danny had been a fair street-brawler when he was younger, and he knew how to box. His right arm, the one that had nearly gotten him into the Major Leagues as a pitcher before giving out, pounded into the already-battered cushions over and over, Danny gritting his teeth and growling in rage and grief.

He was weeping, he was cursing, he was pounding the fabric with everything he had, wanting to hit Mac and to kiss Mac, wishing he could tell Claire to get lost. He wanted to die, to get drunk, to go back to Flack's and get his brains fucked out again. He just wanted to shut down, to hide in his bedroom and never think again.

Finally his shoulder started to complain and Danny stood, his arms shaking, his chest heaving, sweat and tears mingling to drip from his chin. Mindlessly he shuffled toward the kitchen and to the promise of alcoholic stupor, but staggered before he could leave the living room. He slapped a hand against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

His anger spent, Danny turned and sagged against the wall. He tilted his head back and slid to the floor, plopping down and covering his head with his hands.

A quiet whine made him lift his head, and he looked over to his beat-up recliner to see The Mook staring at him, head tilted. Danny sighed and slapped his thigh, and the wire-haired little mutt bounced to the floor and trotted over to him. "Hey, pal," Danny murmured as the part-terrier, part-God-only-knew sat in his lap and ran a comforting tongue over his cheek, cleaning up the tears that Danny hadn't even realized he was still shedding.

Danny had found the dog just a little over a month ago and brought it back to his place. Mac loved dogs and this of course had made the Marine want to drop by Danny's more often—much to the Italian's delight—but Mac had insisted on a vet visit just in case. Other than a minor case of fleas, the animal had been given a clean bill of health, and had taken to Danny's apartment like a kid to Central Park.

The Mook, as Danny had taken to calling his new friend, was slim and wiry and tough and street-smart and—as Sheldon had remarked—a four-legged version of Danny. The Italian had scoffed at the idea, but upon hearing the remark Mac had laughed harder than Danny had ever heard him laugh before.

The thought gave Danny another stab of pain deep in his chest, and he gave a shuddering sigh as he lifted The Mook off his lap and onto the floor, climbing clumsily to his feet. "Thanks, pal," he told the dog, "but what I need right now is a lotta booze, aright?"

Danny shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed three beers out of his fridge, and his thoughts briefly flew to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He had aspirin. He had razor blades. And he most definitely had alcohol.

Dangerous thoughts careened throughout his skull as he chugged and walked, managing to land on the couch. He downed a beer without even thinking about it and started on the second one when another idea popped into his head. As though his hand had a mind of its own, Danny reached for the cell phone still on his belt, flipping it open and scrolling through his list of saved numbers until a particular one was highlighted.

"Might as well say goodbye to somebody that cares, ya know?" Danny grumbled, lifting the phone to his ear.

The phone trilled in Danny's ear. He chugged the rest of his second beer, his leg twitching, the third beer mocking him with its unopened top, the Italian trying like hell to hold back the tears that threatened to spill even as his heart felt like it'd been ripped out of his chest. The Mook was curled up next to him with his head on Danny's thigh, staring up at his benefactor—Danny didn't really consider himself to be the dog's _master_—with canine concern and intelligence. Danny gave a sad smile and scratched behind The Mook's ears.

Finally the line crackled. "Caine residence," came a sleep-clogged voice.

Danny took a shuddering breath. "Tim," he started, and trailed off as the tears broke free again.

"Who the…" Tim Speedle started, and then he must have paused to flick on the nightstand lamp and check the callerID. "Danny? Is that you?"

"Yeah," the Italian moaned, his sinuses damming up.

"Danny, what the hell's wrong? Are you crying?"

Danny just sobbed harder, holding his face in one hand while the other held the phone to his ear. "Tim, it's about Mac. He… he says he don't want me around no more."

Speed was rendered speechless, but not for long. There was the sound of the older man clearing his throat and taking a breath, and then the Italian learned a few new words as his Miami friend swore graphically for a full minute.

Apparently Horatio had been sleeping next to him, because Danny heard the vague sounds of the redhead's voice somewhere nearby. Speed held the phone away from his ear, explaining to his lover in short sentences _why_ he'd been swearing. There was a rustling noise, and Danny realized that the phone had changed hands.

"Danny, it's Horatio," the familiar voice growled, concerned. "Tell us what happened."

"Tell us everything," Speed added, hovering next to his lover and listening hard.

And Danny did. He told the Miami pair about his screw-up that morning with the 'three little words,' and the appearance of Claire's son, and Mac's typical, stone-faced reaction to the whole thing.

Speed's voice got fainter as he moved away from the phone, turning the air blue again.

"Who's he cussin' at?" Danny wondered through a stuffy nose.

Horatio was no more thrilled than his lover, but at least he held his tongue. "At Mac. Believe us, Danny, you have done nothing wrong. It's not your fault, and there is no reason for you to feel responsible for this."

"How am I not responsible?" Danny retorted, his hand diving between the couch cushions in the vain hope that he could find something to blow his nose on. "I mean, I'm the one that's been makin' 'im feel like that. I can't believe I said that to 'im…"

"Danny, listen," Speed snapped. "It's not you, and it's never been you. Mac's just afraid of his own feelings."

"And he's still not over Claire," Horatio added. The trio went silent for a moment, thinking. "Danny, Speed, I think it's time we invited Mac down to spend a few more vacation days with us."

Speed agreed wholeheartedly.

"Don't say anythin' to Mac, please," Danny begged. "'Bout me callin' you. I don't wanna make it worse."

"Danny," Horatio chided gently, "Don't you remember what happened the last time you asked for my help with this?"

Danny gave an embarrassing snort, wiping his nose on his sleeve because his search for a tissue had come up dry. "Yeah. Mac said that that shouldn't'a happened in the first place. He said it's always been about the sex, and nothin' else."

Tim's voice blustered. "H, I thought you said that it worked!"

"It did," Danny cut in. "He's been a helluva a lot nicer in the sack, and at work and at home, but he still…" And Danny broke off again, drowning in fresh tears.

Horatio finished for him. "He still won't love you," he growled morosely. Tim started cussing again, but Horatio interrupted him calmly. "No, Speed, you're not going to kill him. I need your help to fix this."

Danny blinked. "Whaddaya mean by that? You're not… plannin' somethin', are ya?"

He heard Speed's voice give an unexpected cackle. "Planning stuff like this is what I do best, Danny. It might take us some time to get it together, but I think we can pull it off."

"In the meantime," Horatio continued, "Here's what I need you to do. I need you to trust us that we'll do everything we can to help you, all right? I need you to avoid alcohol, and to promise that you won't hurt yourself in any way. Can you do that?"

Danny was silent.

"Promise, Danny," Speed growled, "or we're staying right here in Miami."

Danny sighed. "Promise," he muttered, eyeing the drink in front of him. "Hey, I got a beer gettin' hot right in front of me. Can I have it?"

"Do you work tomorrow?" Speed asked logically.

Danny grunted. "Yeah."

Horatio muttered something to Speed, who muttered back, and the redhead finally agreed. "Fine, but no more than two beers a night. I need you to stay strong, Danny, all right? I need you to keep yourself together until we can get up to New York."

"And knock some sense into Mac's thick skull," Speed added, his voice a dangerous rumble.

"Mac has plenty of sense," Horatio argued calmly, playing the devil's advocate. "It's like you said, Speed, he's afraid of his own feelings."

"What feelings?" Danny growled, popping open the third beer and downing a fourth of it.

"Jesus, Danny, slow down!" Speed said firmly, having heard the sounds. "I promise that when we get up there, if you still want to, I'll take you out and let you get stinking drunk."

"If this don't work, eh?" Danny muttered.

"It _will_ work," Speed insisted. "This method, well… let's just say, it's worked before."

There was a momentary silence. "Speed," Horatio started, "You're not planning another one of _those_, are you?"

"You're damn skippy I am," Speed retorted.

"Plannin' what?" wondered the Italian, interrupting the Miami pair.

Horatio gave a long-suffering sigh. "The same thing he did to convince _me_ to love him. We weren't always dating, Danny. In the beginning, it was like you and Mac: nothing beyond sex. However, Speed can be rather… persuasive, when he puts his mind to it."

"Never doubt Mr. Deeps," Speed growled. "I think it'll work, H. I doubt we can get Mac to be the sub, though."

"Well, I'll do it," Horatio offered quickly—too quickly, to Danny's ears.

"Of course you will," Speed said in a patronizing tone. "Oh, all right. Saves me the trouble of finding a stunt bottom."

Danny was lost. "The hell are you two talking about?"

Abruptly the lovers started laughing. "Danny," Speed started casually, "Do you mind if we take Mac clubbing with us?"

Danny blinked. "Clubbin'? You mean, to that place where you and H… do that weird shit?"

"It's not weird shit, it's _kinky_ shit," Speed corrected. "And yes."

Danny blinked. "Whaddaya need my say-so for? Not like I got anythin' to do with 'im now."

"Stop it, right now," Horatio snarled unexpectedly. "In my mind, you and Mac are simply having a fight, and you are still together. Just believe it, Danny."

Danny thought hard. _Me and Mac ain't over. We're just havin' a fight._ "Can I believe it?" he whispered.

"You can," Horatio growled reassuringly. "You're having a fight, and you're sleeping apart for a while. That's all."

A tiny shred of hope began to blossom within Danny's mind. "Just a fight," he muttered. "It'll all work out."

"Good man," Horatio praised.

"I don't wanna do this if he don't want it," Danny said suddenly, startling both himself and the Miami men. "If he don't… don't love me, then I don't wanna… guilt 'im, ya know?"

"Danny," Horatio said patiently. "You can believe me when I say that Mac does love you. And that's what scares him. And he remembers Claire."

Danny spat the name is though it was a curse. "She's been dead for more'n five years now, and he still acts like he don't wanna offend her," he grunted.

"Exactly," Speed cut in. "He still hasn't gotten over her, and that's one thing we're gonna try to help with. It's not healthy."

"Mac's a smart man," Horatio added. "And he's a brave man, to a point. He's never run from a battle that needed to be fought, I'm sure, but he can't fight his emotions. To that end, he's simply closed himself away from everything."

"Not everybody can be like you, H," Speed said softly. "To this day, I have no idea how you do it. How you deal with pain like you do."

Danny could almost see the redhead duck his head and give a hesitant smile. "Pain," Horatio began quietly. "Pain keeps us honest. The guilt keeps us sharp, fills us with the urge to make sure that we never have to feel that guilt again. The more you focus on the pain of others, the less you're bogged down by your own regrets."

"Wish I could do that," Danny mumbled, taking another swig of his beer.

"You and me both," Speed concurred.

Horatio gave a faint, slightly embarrassed snort. "It's not something that can be taught. We all have to find our own methods for dealing with hardship." He paused. "And the bottom of a bottle is not the best place to start looking."

Danny grumbled and set the beer down. "Makes me feel better, for a little while," he groused.

"No, it just makes you forget about it for a little while," Speed argued. "And when you wake up in the morning, not only will it still hurt, but you'll have a hangover. Just… just trust us, okay, Danny? As soon as we can get up there, we will."

Danny gave a hesitant sigh, scratching the back of his neck. "Just hurry," he whispered. "I don't know how long I can live like this."

"Live as long as you have to," Horatio said in a firm, comforting tone. "This won't kill you unless you let it."

Danny had to nod at that. "You're right." He sagged back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Thanks, guys. For tryin', at least."

"Fuck trying," Speed growled.

"Wait until we succeed," Horatio finished.

Danny gave a mirthless laugh. "Anyway, thanks. I'm goin' ta bed. Here's hopin' I can sleep."

"Call me in the morning," Speed insisted. "Call us every morning and every night."

Danny felt the barest hint of relief in his shoulders; at least _somebody_ cared. "Aright, I will. Talk to ya tomarra."

ONE WEEK LATER

Danny was in hell.

An entire week had gone by since Mac had left him. Danny had spent nearly every night at Flack's, coming home only to tend to The Mook and his apartment. It hadn't taken Flack long to figure out what was up, and he hadn't wanted to take advantage of it, but Flack was really worried about Danny. Whatever he could do to help the guy stay afloat, he'd do. It was just a happy coincidence that Danny was begging for sex.

It had also been a huge mistake for Flack to let it slip that Mac was sleeping with the new coroner, Peyton Driscoll. A _woman_.

This had made Danny almost sick. He knew Mac was bisexual. Hell, he himself was bi! And so Danny had swallowed his nerves, blinked back his tears, and asked Lindsey if she wanted to go out sometime. Just to show everybody that he liked girls, too.

He bombed.

Lindsey had later told him that his first attempt to pick her up was more pathetic than "a dying calf in a hailstorm," to use her words.

That was the one night he'd slept at home this week, with The Mook curled up next to him on his pillow and licking away his tears every time he tossed and turned. Such a good little mutt; honestly, Danny didn't know what he'd do without the little guy.

If sleeping alone was hell, then going to work was truly something straight from the heart of the Abyss. Mac was terse, speaking to Danny only when he had to, looking at Danny only when he couldn't avoid it, and generally just maintaining a three-foot barrier of personal space between them. Danny could see the pain on the Marine's face, and to think that he—Danny—had been the cause of it filled the Italian with even deeper self-loathing.

More and more lately his thoughts had returned to the beer and the medicine cabinet, but Horatio and Speed's words kept him afloat. _Just give 'em time,_ Danny told himself for the billionth time. _They'll get here. They can fix it._

Can't they?

Danny tried not to dwell on that too much as he went about his job. Somehow he found the ability to concentrate on his tasks, as though by losing himself in his work, he could forget all about the man that was currently standing in his office, going over some files.

Speaking of files, Danny had a stack of his own that he'd been needing to give the Marine for a couple of days now, but he hadn't found the nerve to face him. Today, though, he was determined to make the effort. He swallowed, squared his shoulders, and marched to the glassed-in booth at the top of the stairs.

Mac was standing in his office, his back to the doorway when Danny entered. "Got some files for ya, Mac."

Mac didn't look at him. In fact, the Marine seemed to turn his face so that Danny couldn't even see a hint of his profile. "Just lay them on the desk," he said quietly.

Danny tried to keep the hurt look off his face. The entire week had been like this: Mac turned his back to Danny whenever he could, as though he couldn't stand the sight of him. Danny couldn't take it; he was possessed by the sudden urge to just _touch_ Mac, to feel the Marine's reassuring musculature under his hand. "Mac…" Danny reached out a hesitant hand, gently laying it on the older man's shoulder, and Mac went rigid.

"Don't touch me," Mac growled.

"Mac, c'mon, look at me," Danny pleaded. "For God's sake, why won't ya look at me?"

"Don't touch me, Danny," Mac repeated, his arms stiff.

"Mac, why—"

Suddenly Mac spun, casually shrugging off Danny's hand as Mac's other came to cup Danny behind the head and Mac dove down and smashed his lips against the younger man, and it was all Danny could do to not collapse.

Danny gave a moan as adrenaline, lust, love, and shock all poured through his veins, and he clutched Mac desperately and opened his mouth wide, begging for the tongue that Mac thrust into his waiting mouth. His brain started to tingle from lack of oxygen, but Danny didn't care. This was _Mac_ kissing him, and nothing else in the world mattered. It was hot and nasty and beautiful and he could feel his cock stirring, and all he wanted was for Mac to never stop, to hold him forever and never let go.

Just as suddenly, Mac broke apart and stared into Danny's eyes, his face a mask of lust, anger, and hurt. Then he spun and all but shoved the Italian away. With deliberate effort, Mac grasped the edge of the desk with both hands, his knuckles white and shaking.

"I said, don't touch me," Mac said again, the strain in his voice evident. "Please, just… just don't."

Danny could only stare at the broad shoulders, his mouth wide, his face flushed, his eyes glistening. Finally the Italian swallowed, bent to pick up the files he'd dropped, placed them on the desk beside the Marine, and left the office without another word, staring at the floor and nearly walking into at least three different techs on the way back to the trace lab.

Out of sight, Sheldon Hawkes and Stella Bonasera watched with calm and unbiased eyes. "You see that?" Sheldon murmured. Oblivious to their scrutiny, Mac shook his head slightly as if to clear it, then walked around the desk to sit in it. He stared at the files for a few seconds before picking them up and leafing through them.

Stella nodded. "Poor Danny. This is killing him."

"Poor both of them," Sheldon corrected. "Mac's really tearing himself up, and I can't figure out why. It's obvious that they're crazy about each other."

Stella sighed. "You don't know Mac like I do. He's afraid he's going to get hurt again, and believe it or not, he's _still_ not over his wife. And she died on 9/11."

Sheldon blinked. "I agree that everyone needs a rational grieving period, but that's… has it always taken him this long to get over a loss?"

"It takes him a while," Stella admitted, "but never this long. Claire was his first wife, and I have never seen two people more perfect for each other."

"Ouch," Sheldon winced. "He's just never said goodbye to her."

Stella gave a heavy sigh. "No, he hasn't. And it's causing more problems than he wants to admit. Matter of fact, he may not even realize that it is causing problems."

Sheldon scratched the back of his head. "Think we should say anything?"

"After seeing _that_?" Stella gave the pathologist a Look. "He'll be lucky if I don't shoot him. This has gone on long enough."

Hawkes held up his hands defensively. "Far be it from me to stand in front of an angry best friend. I'll be right behind you."

Stella made as though to roll up her sleeves. "He's paranoid when it comes to the reputation of the lab," she grumbled as she began moving in Mac's direction. "And you have to admit, a shift supervisor sleeping with a _male_ subordinate isn't going to look good if it goes public."

"But it's better than the alternative, especially for Danny's sake," Sheldon affirmed, and she nodded as they arrived at the top of the short flight of steps.

"Mac," Stella announced briskly, striding into the Marine's office with Sheldon close behind her.

"We need to talk," Hawkes said firmly, closing the door.

Looking up from the paperwork on his desk, Mac lifted an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Mac's closest friend for several years stalked to the desk, her arms crossed. "Yes, there is: you." She stood there, her arms crossed, eying the Marine like she usually eyed an uncooperative bacteria culture. Sheldon just stood in the corner, his arms also crossed and watching calmly.

Mac blinked. "How am I a problem?"

Stella stepped forward and slammed her hands down on the desk. "Mac, you're single-handedly tearing the lab apart! Peyton can't walk, Lindsey can't think, Danny can't even _look_ at you, Flack won't talk to anyone, and I'm sick of it!"

Mac was stunned. He knew that Stella was prone to occasional bouts of shouting, but very rarely did she shout at _him_. "What are you saying?" Mac asked with sky-high eyebrows, leaning back in his seat.

Sheldon glowered at him, finally speaking. "We know about you and Claire. We know about you and Peyton. We also know about you and Danny." He took a breath, cutting Mac off before the startled Marine could protest. "And last of all, we know that you need to get your priorities straight, to find closure from your wife, and to pull your head out of your bowels and fix things!"

Mac could feel the anger rising even as he glanced incredulously at Stella. "And how should I fix things, exactly?"

Stella answered as she tossed her hands in the air. "That's up to you, Mac. But you need to do it and do it soon, before this whole mess starts to interfere with our work."

Mac ducked his head. "I left Danny _because_ I didn't want it to interfere with work."

"I don't believe that for a second, Mac," Stella said with a dangerous quiet, resting her hands on her hips. "You left him because people are starting to talk, and because he started getting too close."

Mac could feel his hands vibrating, from anger and from shock, from self-loathing and not a little paranoia. "How would you know?" he growled.

Stella walked around the desk and turned Mac's chair to face her, putting her hands on his shoulders and getting right in his face. "Mac, we've been friends for a long time. I know you. I know what scares you."

Mac flicked a glance at Sheldon, who stood there impassively, before turning back to the woman that filled his field of vision. "And what, exactly, scares me?" he asked sarcastically.

Her face tightened. "You're afraid of losing someone. You're afraid to let yourself get hurt again, after what happened to Claire."

Something happened to Mac's face that Stella hadn't seen since half a year after the Twin Towers fell: a tic, just under her boss's left eye. "Do you have to drag Claire into this?" Mac rumbled.

"With all due respect, Mac," Sheldon started as Stella released the Marine's shoulders, "Claire is the biggest part of the problem."

The tic grew more pronounced as Mac's face tightened.

Stella saw it. "Mac, believe me, we're not saying anything against Claire. I gave you your space after she died, remember? I was _thrilled_ when you finally went out on another date. When you started seeing Danny, well, I'll admit that it was a little weird but I think it was for the best."

Mac blinked, the anger disappearing from his face. "You think it was for the best?" he repeated, not quite sure that he'd heard her right.

Hawkes sighed. "Mac, we think you and Danny fit well together, and so far you've been able to keep it from interfering with the job. And as long as it _doesn't_ interfere, we won't say anything."

"Which is why we're talking now," Stella continued. "Mac, I don't know what's going on between you and Danny, but I'm sure that that kid from last week is probably what started it."

Sheldon saw Mac's face. "More like the straw that broke the camel's back," the pathologist ventured, and Mac gave a slow nod. "Mac, what worries me the most is the way Danny's been acting. I think he might try to hurt himself."

Mac's brows furrowed, the tic still going, and the Marine rubbed at it absently. "Danny wouldn't hurt himself. He's not suicidal."

"Well, he _wasn't_ before you dumped him!" Stella snapped, slapping her hands on her thighs for emphasis.

Mac's gaze flicked between his two friends, weighing their words. Finally, "I'll make sure that he makes an appointment with the department psychologist."

Hawkes gave a definite growl. "Mac, the one that needs a psychologist is you!"

Mac reared his head back, the tic suddenly disappearing.

Stella gave a frustrated sigh. "He still doesn't get it," she muttered to Sheldon. "I can't understand how a man that _smart_ can be so…" her voice trailed off, unable to think of a suitable epithet.

"Dense?" Sheldon finished wryly, and Stella made a sarcastic 'thank you!' gesture. Hawkes turned back to Mac. "At least take a few days off, Mac. Think, relax, sort things out."

"_Please_?" Stella asked, in that edgy voice she used only when she was two steps away from slapping the Marine in the face.

Mac sighed. "I'll think about it."

Sheldon and Stella gave identical sighs. "Well, we tried," Hawkes muttered.

Stella turned on her heel and yanked the door open. "Next time, I'm trying with a sledgehammer," she growled loud enough for Mac to hear as she left the office, Sheldon close behind her.

Mac stared after them even when they were out of his sight. "I could use a vacation," he finally grumbled. He needed to get away from all this for a while. Get away from Danny, and work, and Reed, and memories of Claire. But mostly, he needed to get away from Danny.

He knew exactly where he would go, too: Miami. Horatio would no doubt try to change Mac's mind, but Mac sternly resolved to not let that happen again. Far, _far_ too much was wrong with Mac seeing Danny, and he needed to just get away and think.

Lying on a beach sounded nice.  
He picked up his phone and called Horatio.

Horatio, Speed, and Mac were quiet on the flight to New York. They mostly slept on the way up; they knew they'd probably need it, to replenish themselves and also to brace themselves for more of the horror that was Henry Darius. Horatio was familiar with the case, but Mac filled in the blanks completely, giving the Miami CSIs every gory detail.

Horatio's face was tight. Speed looked sick. They'd confronted sociopaths before, but few who would casually put bullets into a small crowd of young people and then play in their blood afterward. Darius never showed remorse or squeamishness. To him, carnage was as natural as breathing. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

They were going to make him stop.

"Okay, what's the plan?" Speed asked. They were standing in the airport terminal, bags over their shoulders. Speed was the only one without a gun; he was still reviewing his old cases, and after that he had to take the firearms proficiency test again. He hated guns, and one of the more prominent members of Miami-Dade's Internal Affairs had a personal hatred for Horatio and his 'best friend.'

"Tim? Can you do me a favor?" Mac asked quietly. "I was wondering if you'd go to the crime lab and start going over the trace evidence we've collected so far. See if anything jumps out at you."

Speed flicked a glance at Horatio and then nodded. "Sure thing. Do I need a voucher or something?"

Mac tilted his head. "Your badge should be good enough, but I'll make a call. I'm also going to call you a squad car for a ride. When you get in, find Adam Ross. He'll get you started."

Speed nodded and Mac pulled out his phone, checking in with NY dispatch. A squad card was ordered for Speed, and someone from the crime lab would come for Mac and Horatio. The two Supervisors had a destination in mind: the townhouse of the Endecott family and the possible location of Darius and his hostage, Alexa Endecott.

"Townhouse? More like slaughterhouse," Horatio growled, surveying the walls. The coroners had a single line of body bags, six victims in all. Young kids, popping pills in their own foolish idea of fun. Any one of them could have died from their little 'pharm party' anyway, but Darius had finalized the process and then apparently decided that the Endecott den had needed a new crimson paint job.

Horatio politely renewed his acquaintances with Stella and Sheldon; he hadn't met Detective Flack the last time he'd been here, and Lindsey was new. Danny looked like hell, but a brief glimmer of hope had shone in his eyes upon spying the redhead.

Horatio stole a moment to have a quiet word with the Italian. "How are you holding up?" he murmured.

Danny sighed and looked around the blood-spattered room. "I'm here, ain't I?" he muttered. His gaze flew to Mac of its own volition, but the Marine was focused on the case. He'd barely nodded hello to the Italian before getting to work, but that was only to be expected.

They'd catch a killer first, and then they'd see about getting through to Mac. Horatio gave Danny an encouraging look. "Hang in there," he whispered. "We'll talk about you and Mac soon enough."

Horatio went with the victims back to the crime lab, where he finally located Speed buried in evidence boxes in a quiet corner of the lab. Speed's brown eyes were heavy when his lover poked his head in the room. "I heard he hit another house," Speed said quietly.

Horatio gave a sad nod. "Stella found a lead on the gun from the Johnson murder, so she and I are going to chase that. Have you seen Danny yet?"

"Caught a glimpse of him," Speed nodded grimly. "He looks like shit. I haven't said anything to him yet, though. Does he know I came with you?"

Horatio shook his head. "Not yet. I want this case solved before we begin to work on that endeavor."

"I hear that," Speed agreed. "Not to make light of a mass murderer, but you were right about Danny being one hot son of a bitch."

Horatio gave a tight smile. "Makes you wonder what's been going through Mac's mind, doesn't it?" He looked up, catching a brief flash of the Italian with an armload of files, headed for the elevator. Danny was quiet and withdrawn but still dedicated to his job, and Horatio sighed. "How often are you going to need this 'therapy,' Mac?" he muttered to himself. He couldn't decide if the Marine's emotional thick-headedness was amusing or frustrating.

HOURS LATER

It had been one hell of a chase but as the sunlight started to wane over the city, Henry Darius was once again behind bars. Horatio and Mac touched bases in the break room at the crime lab. "Dinner tomorrow night?" Horatio murmured.

Mac nodded. "What are you and Tim going to do tomorrow afternoon?"

Horatio tilted his head. "See the city, relive some old memories. I did have a few good years here, after all."

Mac gave a wry grin. "I'm going to go home and sleep. Hopefully I won't wake up seeing all that red."

Horatio knew the feeling. "Will Danny be with you?" he asked casually.

Mac paused, and Horatio's look changed. The redhead straightened, adding nearly two inches to his usual slouch, and his eyes grew stern. If there was one thing Horatio hated, it was being lied to. As usual, Horatio had figured out that Mac was not seeing Danny. What Mac didn't know was that Danny had called Miami on his own. Mac straightened as well; it was _his_ personal life, dammit! "No," Mac said quietly, "Danny will not be joining me."

Horatio stepped closer. "I've seen him, Mac. I'm worried about him. He's not eating enough, and by the looks of it he hasn't slept all week."

Mac stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them from twitching. "He's a grown man, Horatio. He's been taking care of himself just fine."

"Until now," Horatio said in an edgy rumble. "Have you _looked_ at him at all, this past week?"

Mac sighed. "I don't need to be looking at him," he said quietly.

Horatio frowned, but allowed himself to relax. "We'll talk over dinner, Mac." It wasn't a request.

Horatio unlocked the door to the hotel room he would be sharing with Speed. It was rather small, but good quality, with a small 'living room' area and two queen-sized beds in the bedroom. It was more like a very tiny apartment, minus a kitchen. Speed bitched at that, of course; Speed loved to cook.

The man in question was standing on the small balcony that came with their room, watching the sunset. Horatio slid his arms around his lover's waist. "You okay?" he murmured.

Speed tilted his head back, resting it on Horatio's shoulder. "Why wouldn't I be?"

The redhead nuzzled Speed's neck. "Just wondering. It's been a while since you were this far north, hasn't it?"

Speed sighed. "Going on a decade," he admitted. "And right now, my parents are only 200 miles away. It almost makes me nervous."

Horatio decided to leave that one alone. "Minus my last two trips, it's been about the same amount of time for me." He hooked his chin over the younger man's shoulder and joined him in watching the lights play over the city.

Speed tilted his head against the soft copper hair. "You don't feel like fooling around tonight, do you?"

Horatio sighed. "No, not really. It's been a long and bloody day, and I'd just like to rest and get it all out of my system." He pulled back, tugging Speed with him. "Coming to bed?"

Speed nodded. "Yeah. I almost wish we'd invited Danny with us, so he wouldn't have to sleep alone again tonight."

"Well, if everything goes as planned," Horatio began as he moved to the bedroom and started undressing, "this will be the last night he'll spend alone." He paused as he unbuttoned his shirt. "You bring your laptop?"

Speed nodded. "I brought everything that I felt comfortable passing through the metal detectors at the airport."

Horatio gave a wry smile at that. "Well, let's get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long and busy day."

Speed started to climb into bed, paused, and slapped his pillow. Apparently he didn't like the way it felt, because he tossed it onto the other bed. Horatio watched calmly. "Goose down?"

Speed nodded grumpily and poked the comforter, which told the same story. "Fuck," he growled. He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the hotel phone. "Yeah, room service? Listen, I need a change of bedding; I'm kinda allergic to goose down."

Horatio sighed. "My fault, Speed, I forgot to mention it when I got the room."

Speed eyed his lover, listened to the phone, and hung up. "It's all right. Not like we do much traveling anyway."

Horatio smiled wryly and stripped to his shorts and undershirt, climbing into the empty bed opposite Speed and earning himself an extra two pillows and a comforter in the process. Several minutes later, a maid showed up with a pile of middle-layer blankets and some wood-husk pillows. Speed made his bed and dismissed the maid. As soon as he climbed into bed, Horatio slipped out of his and dove for his lover, capturing his mouth. "Love you," he murmured, draping himself comfortably over the younger man.

"Love ya back, H,"

NEXT DAY  
Mid-afternoon, Horatio and Speed's hotel

"Ready to get this party started?" Speed asked with a devious grin, toying with the small webcam he'd sat on the dresser and hovering over it, checking line-of-sight to make sure it was pointed at the bed with the feather-free bedding.

"Mm-hmm." Horatio was tapping away at the laptop, registering the camera on a discreet password-protected website. He wanted the footage to be seen, but only at a specific time and by a specific person. After the night was over, he'd terminate the account. "All right, it's registered."

"Okay, I think I've got it lined up right. I'm gonna hide it; you go downstairs and make sure you can still access it on a wireless connection."

Horatio nodded and closed the computer, stuffing it into the carry-bag and draping it over his shoulder. "I'll call you."

Speed nodded as Horatio gathered his things and left the room. The redhead took the elevator down to the hotel dining room and selected a booth in the corner, pulling out the laptop and connecting to the web site.

Once he'd punched in the password to access the webcam, he halted. Speed lay on his back on the bed, his shirt off, his pants unzipped, and his hand stroking his cock. Horatio swallowed and plugged in his headphones, holding them to one ear, and sure enough he could hear the slight pants and moans.

Horatio pulled out his cell phone and dialed the room. On his screen, Speed paused and reached for the phone. "Tim Speedle."

"Speed, stop that. You're making me hard."

Speed sat up, looked right at the camera, and grinned. "How's the picture?"

"Picture and sound are both perfectly clear." Horatio saw Speed nod and return to jerking his dick. "Speed… please stop."

Speed shook his head and lay down fully, the phone to one ear while he stroked himself. "We gotta test this thing, H. Make sure it works," he said softly.

"It works," Horatio growled, setting down the headphones and flicking a cautious gaze around the room before reaching under the table to adjust his pants. "Keep it up, Speed, and I'm coming back up there."

Speed was panting quietly. "No you're not, because you have to go meet Mac."

And so Horatio was forced to watch with wide eyes and quickening breath as Speed's hand slowly sped to a blur on his cock, the younger man's eyes closed, gasping softly. Suddenly Speed groaned as he came, and although Horatio couldn't see the white droplets spatter onto Speed's hairy chest, it was evident where they'd landed by the way Speed ran his hand over his belly, staring straight at the camera as he sensually licked and sucked his fingers clean.

"Now who's being cruel and unusual?" Horatio growled when Speed calmed down, and he shook his head even though he knew Speed couldn't see it. "Really, kids these days."

Speed gave a bark of laughter. "Hey, Pops, before you go knocking my generation, just remember that yours is the one that _raised_ mine."

Horatio favored the screen with a patronizing smile. "And look how well you turned out. Thirty years old, and you're already running your own orgies."

"And you enjoyed every minute of it."

Horatio sighed good-naturedly. "Guilty. Now, if we can get back to business?"

Speed nodded on the camera and stuffed himself back into his pants, rising to sit on the edge of the bed and looking at the tiny hidden lens. "How do you want to do this? I mean, timing's gonna be everything."

"I know. And if we keep calling each other, it'll look suspicious. We'll have to keep a schedule, and we'll just have to try to stick to it as best we can."

Speed checked his watch. "Okay, it's about four o'clock now. You're meeting Mac at the restaurant in half an hour, so maybe take another hour tops to eat, and then you're back at his place?"

"Mm-hmm. And I'll be generous and say half an hour for the screwing. I know it won't sound like much, but I think I know how to get his motor running."

Speed filed all that away as calmly as though Horatio had been talking about a trip to the dentist's office. "I'll go out in a little while and get to Danny's place, get him to have a beer. We'll go out and talk, but we'll kill enough time. So, six is show time?"

"Six is show time," Horatio confirmed.

Speed sighed. "The things we do for love. Speaking of which, love ya, H."

"Love you, Speed. Now let's take care of business."

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

Speed took a cab to Danny's apartment building and followed Horatio's directions to the right door. He knocked, and was surprised at the sudden barking from the other side. He heard Danny's distinctive voice yell "Comin'! Shaddap, Mook!"

Speed stuffed his hands in his pockets while Danny opened the door as wide as the security chain would allow. The Italian wedged his foot in the door, and behind his ankle Speed could see a scrappy little mutt yapping excitedly. "Yo, how you doin'?" Danny asked cautiously, not recognizing the tall, dark, unshaven man standing before him.

Belatedly Speed realized that they'd never met in person. "Danny, I'm Tim Speedle."

Danny's eyes widened and he slammed the door, only to open it again all the way. The dog bounced out into the hall, sniffing Speed's shoes. Speed knew that it was always a good idea to make friends with the animals and so he squatted and offered the back of his fist for the wire-haired little fuzzball to smell. Danny seemed a little embarrassed. "Mook, knock it off."

Speed smiled. "Locard's the same way. My Border Collie."

Danny shrugged and bent to grab the dog's collar, tugging him gently back into the apartment. "Well, here's The Mook, then."

Speed snorted as he stood; it was a perfect name. "So, what is The Mook, exactly, as far as breeds go?"

"Who knows?" Danny mumbled, picking up the squirming bundle and tucking him under one arm. "C'mon in, pal."

Speed stepped into the apartment and glanced around. It was small and not exactly what he'd call 'tidy,' but it was definitely Danny's place. There were pictures on the walls and posters from various sports teams, though it was obvious that Danny was a die-hard Yankees fan.

Danny locked the door behind the older man and then went for a battered recliner, sinking down in it and picking up a slightly frosty beer. Speed got his first good look at the Italian, and the already-empty beer bottle next to his current one, and his heart sank. Danny was pale and haggard, with dark circles under his eyes and a sunken look to his cheekbones.

Speed laid his jacket over the arm of the couch, revealing a long-sleeve black shirt that informed the world that 'I reject your reality and substitute my own.' He sat, giving a scratch to The Mook. "Nice place," Speed said quietly. Not much of an icebreaker.

Danny's mouth twitched in a 'yeah, right.' "So what's your excuse for bein' up here?" he asked to make conversation. Speed had thought that the Italian would be thrilled at his presence in New York, but with the look in the younger man's crystal blue eyes… it was almost like Danny had given up hope. He'd had to sleep alone last night, after all.

Speed shrugged casually. "H came up to help Mac catch Henry Darius, and I came with him. He's technically up here on County time but I'm using a couple of vacation days." His sharp brown eyes caught the momentary stormcloud that crossed Danny's features at the mention of his ex-lover's name. _Christ… he's got it bad. I hope H has good luck getting through to Mac, because I have a feeling he'll need it_. "Hey Danny, wanna show me around the city?"

Danny blinked at him, looking almost morose. "I wasn't plannin' on goin' out," he said slowly.

Speed leaned forward. "Come on, Danny. Please? I haven't been to the city in fuckin' forever."

"When were you ever up here in New York?" Danny asked with a swig of his beer.

"Well, I was born in Syracuse. My parents still live there, matter of fact. We didn't come down to the city much." Speed gave a too-casual shrug. "H spent so much of his life up here. And besides, New York's in the news all the time but I can't remember the last time I was up here to actually see it in person."

Danny sighed and took another long drink. "I wasn't really feelin' like goin' out," he repeated. "I got booze here, though. If you're hungry, I'm sure ya can whip somethin' up."

Speed gave a sigh of his own and shook his head as he wandered into the kitchen. Who knew, maybe Danny would snap out of it after one of Speed's home-cooked meals. The dark Irishman began browsing through the kitchen, and then… "_Jesus Christ_!" he roared.

Danny leapt to his feet. "What? Whassa matter?" He headed into the kitchen, where Speed was staring in horror at a Chinese takeout box sitting on the countertop.

The Miami man looked at him. "Clean your fucking kitchen once in a while!" he snapped with wide eyes, grabbing the box and aiming so that Danny could see the contents before he moved to toss it in the garbage.

"Hey, hey, don't throw that away!" Danny swiped the container before Speed could dispose of it. "That's still good!"

Speed gave him an incredulous look. "Danny, there's roaches in it!"

Danny nodded and plucked one out of the box. "Madagascar hissin' cockroaches, for your information." He popped it in his mouth and bit down with a satisfying crunch, then held another one out to Speed.

Speed just stared at him. "Roaches. In the food. You're telling me they're _supposed_ to be there?"

Danny cocked his head. "They're leftovers from a case I worked yesterday." When it became obvious that Speed didn't want the wiggling, hissing six-legged offering, Danny ate it, too. "I got some deep-fried Rosehair Tarantula onna stick, if ya want it."

Speed honestly looked like he was about to be sick. The thought of people eating live insects was bad enough… but to _cook them_? "You know what? Let's go grab a beer instead. _Please_."

Danny finally agreed, and the two men collected their jackets and headed back out onto the street. Speed was used to the warm humidity of Miami, and he hunched his shoulders into his jacket. Screw the fact that it was August; he was cold. Danny gave his friend a wry look before something caught his eye.

"The hell is that, eh?" Danny plucked at Speed's sleeve. The older man glanced down, noticing the small hole near the shoulder. Danny's careful hands picked out a small piece of the jacket's lining. "Wood chips?"

"Shavings from a South American Kapok tree," Speed explained. "Warmest jacket lining you can buy that's not goose-down."

Danny cocked his head, silently asking the question.

"I'm allergic to down. I wear something lined with it long enough, it gives me the hives." Speed adjusted the collar of his jacket, and Danny cringed. "Which reminds me, I had to get the bedding changed in the hotel room last night because those pillows and blankets had down, too."

Danny eyed him for a moment. "So you're sayin' that if we need to go anywhere to lay down for a little while, maybe if we're drunk as shit, it'd better be at your place?"

Speed struggled to contain his glee; he'd have Danny right where he wanted him, and he didn't even have to lie to him! "Yeah. Unless you want to slather me in cortisone cream."

"Pass." Danny's face was the most lighthearted that Speed had seen so far. "Your place, then."

"Horatio, over here!"

The redhead's eyes roved around the restaurant, where Mac had already claimed a table and was waving to him. Horatio nodded and moved to him and Mac half-rose to shake his hand, and then eyed the laptop carry-bag over Horatio's shoulder. "You bring that for any particular reason?"

Horatio shrugged casually. "I'll show you later." He rested the bag on the floor next to his feet.

The slim waiter came up to them. "I see your companion has joined you. Think you're ready to order drinks?" he asked in a surprisingly smooth Minnesota twang.

Horatio glanced up at the young man. "I'll have the house wine, red if you please, and my friend would like—"

"I'll order my own drink, thank you," Mac interrupted calmly, giving the redhead a pointed look.

Horatio chuckled. "Touché." He held up his palms, as though to reassure the Marine that he wasn't holding another dose of Rohypnol.

Mac ordered a water, and the waiter disappeared. He reappeared a few moments later with their drinks, and Horatio decided that he already knew what he wanted to order: sirloin steak, rare and with all the trimmings. Mac lifted an eyebrow and ordered a chicken Caesar salad.

They made small talk as they waited for their food. Mac did his best to avoid the subject that Horatio most wanted to address, and the redhead decided that he'd have to take his time. The harder he pushed, the harder Mac would push back. Horatio could wait, though. If there was one thing he was known for, it was his patience.

Finally Horatio saw his opening when Mac mentioned some of the safety guidelines for BDSM that he'd learned while in Miami. "You know what I've been thinking about all day?" Horatio asked idly.

"What's that?"

Horatio eyed him calmly over the rim of his wineglass. "I was thinking about going back to your apartment and having you slam me up against the wall and fuck me standing," he murmured as he took an innocent sip of his wine. He saw the hunger, the predatory gaze as it crossed Mac's features, and what Speed had overheard from all the lab techs was confirmed: Mac was seeing a _woman_ right now, and evidently Mac had realized that he preferred to sleep with men even if he wouldn't admit it to himself. Judging from the look on Dr. Driscoll's face when Horatio had met her earlier, she blamed Miami for Mac's sudden disinterest in her.

Mac's trip down to Miami and his experience at Club Deviate had only served to reawaken that hunger, to reinforce the desire for cock and ass. "How about it, Mac? Sound good to you?" Horatio asked casually.

Mac swallowed. "I think it sounds good," he agreed in a shaky voice, shifting in his seat. He paused, and took a glance at his water. "I _did_ order this myself, didn't I?"

Horatio gave a wry smile. "I didn't drug you this time, Mac. It's all your own hormones."

Mac gave a long-suffering sigh. "I guess you can't argue with biology. What I want to know is, what is it about violent crime scenes that makes me want to have sex with someone? Honestly, I think it's a little disturbing."

"It's not about the sex, Mac," Horatio ventured. "It's about being close to someone, and showing them that people can be good to each other, and be good _for_ each other."

Mac had to nod at that, remembering that it was the argument he'd first used to seduce Detective Flack. He smiled a little at the memory.

Horatio caught the smile. "You up for it?"

Mac looked thoughtful, and then nodded again. "Sure, why not?"

They flagged a cab that would take them to Mac's apartment, and they were mostly silent on the ride over. There wasn't much that Mac felt like talking about, especially in front of an audience.

Everything changed when he'd closed and locked his apartment door behind him. Horatio set the laptop down and then slid his hands around Mac's waist, nipping at his neck.

Mac froze and let out a quiet growl, his hand still on the doorknob. "Ever hear of foreplay?"

Horatio chuckled and released him. "Speed hates foreplay. And besides, I just thought you'd want to go ahead and get started."

Mac shook his head and turned to face the redhead, sliding off his own jacket and moving to lay it neatly over the back of the couch. He bent to untie his shoes and pair them tidily behind the couch, and Horatio followed suit.

Mac had started to unbutton his shirt when Horatio's pale hands moved to help him out. "Jesus, Horatio, haven't you been laid enough already today?"

Horatio gave a thin smile. "No, I don't believe I have. Shall we take this to the other side of the couch?"

Mac sighed and nodded and they moved around the furniture, Horatio sliding off his over- and under-shirt in the process, and they sat and instantly Horatio's hands were working on Mac's belt. "I've had the urge," Horatio began in a low tone, "all day, to have you in my mouth. Would you mind?"

Mac gave a growl of arousal and let his head fall back. "No, I don't think so."

"Thank you." The slim fingers fished around in Mac's pants and found his thick cock already half-hard, and Mac groaned as Horatio sank down onto his side and took Mac deep into his mouth. The groan trailed off as Mac lifted his head to watch the older man and he beheld something odd: a bruise on Horatio's shoulder that looked remarkably like a human bite.

"What the hell is that?" Mac growled, startled by the sight of such a deep and obvious mark.

Horatio snorted through his arousal, coming far enough up that he could speak. "That would be Speed's doing," he muttered dryly before diving for Mac's cock again. Horatio and Speed hadn't fucked yet today—amazingly enough—but Speed had still felt the urge to do that to his lover before they set their plans in motion. It was a personal thing for Speed, to 'mark his territory,' and also yet another subtle reminder to Mac that Speed and Horatio were a couple, and deeply in love, and that in their world it was okay to love another man.

Mac banished that thought and went back to enjoying the redhead's talented mouth on his dick. Horatio had _years_ of experience with fellatio, and by God he was good. Mac found himself licking his lips and rubbing mindless circles on the back and arm of the couch with his hands, and he was fighting to keep from thrusting into that incredibly soft warmth.

Suddenly Horatio released him. "Still want to fuck me standing, Mac?"

It took the Marine a moment to adjust to the (comparatively) cold air hitting his dick, and he nodded. They climbed to their collective feet and Mac yanked his undershirt over his head and dropped his pants while Horatio climbed out of his own pants and fished around in the pockets for lube and condoms. He squirted some lube onto his fingers and then tossed the bottle and a condom to Mac, and Mac watched with dark and heavy eyes as he prepared himself, and he watched Horatio press his pale freckled back against the wall and reach behind himself to prep his own entrance.

Mac gave a lustful growl and dropped the bottle on the couch, stalking over to the redhead and suddenly grabbing one wrist and pinning it to the wall, his other hand aiming his thick cock toward the older man's entrance. Horatio tilted his head back as Mac sank the head inside and then grabbed his other wrist, thrusting his hips forward until the redhead was pressed firmly against the wallpaper.

Horatio was two inches taller than Mac and he used it to his advantage, spreading his legs and tilting his hips toward the younger man for a better angle, and in very little time Mac was gripping his wrists hard and trying to nail him through the wall. Horatio groaned and gritted his teeth at the amount of force Mac was using, and was again thoroughly glad that he'd stretched and lubed before going to dinner. Mac rested his forehead against the wall as he hunched into Horatio's slim frame, the Marine bucking his hips and pounding into the tight heat. Horatio made a low growling noise in his throat and managed to raise one leg enough to wrap it around one side of Mac's waist, granting him deeper access to his insides. Mac gave an animal snarl and fucked him harder, pounding up into him.

Honestly Horatio wasn't sure how much he could take, with Mac slamming into him as though he hadn't had sex in weeks. Horatio closed his eyes and concentrated on the massive cock that pistoned in and out of him, squeezing the Marine at odd times and being rewarded with another snarl.

"You like that, Mac?" Horatio growled into the ear next to his mouth, and Mac's hands squeezed his wrists tighter. Horatio frowned; either Mac was far too deep inside himself or the Marine had quietly asked him to shut up, and _that_ wasn't happening. "Is it good for you, Mac? To fuck me?"

Mac growled and reared his head back, only to open his mouth wide and tilt his head and take Horatio's windpipe into his mouth. Horatio fought back the sudden thrill of fear that shot down his spine at the feeling of teeth surrounding his esophagus; if Mac lost control of himself, if he gave in to his animal lust, he could easily tear the redhead's throat out. Horatio denied the sudden urge to swallow. He _had_ to remain in control of this. "That's it, Mac, fuck me hard," Horatio rumbled. The trick was to go along with it, to make it seem like it was Horatio's idea all along. "Harder, Mac. Give me everything you've got."

Mac's jaw twitched and he snarled, and Horatio groaned again as Mac thrust into him over and over and over again, sweat pouring from the Marine's frame. "Fuck me, Mac," Horatio grunted as Mac's angle changed slightly, and Horatio couldn't fight back the moan as Mac began nudging his prostate with every stroke. "Oh, Mac, fuck me," Horatio growled. "Fuck me harder, Mac. I want you to come."

Mac growled into Horatio's neck as his thrusts somehow became even more forceful. "Good, Mac, come for me. _Come!_"

Mac gave a strangled roar as he came, slamming into Horatio with such force that the redhead nearly felt himself lifted off the ground. He squeezed Mac hard and he could feel the incredible girth of the Marine's length throbbing and pulsating within him, shooting his seed into his Latex sheath, Mac's shoulders trembling and sweating. Mac's jaws released him and his chest heaved as he finally pulled out, making both men gasp, and as one they stood there with shaking legs and heaving chests.

Horatio's legs shuddered dangerously; the price he paid for being fucked so hard, harder than his body had been ready for. He had a choice to make and a mere few seconds to make it in: he could collapse there and then, or he could order Mac to help him stagger over to the couch. Neither of them would help Horatio maintain his fragile control.

To his surprise, Mac released his wrists and grasped his waist, slinging one of the redhead's arms across his sweating shoulders. "Sorry," Mac growled softly.

Horatio decided to let Mac help him of his own will, and the redhead waited until the Marine lowered him carefully to the couch before replying. "No worries," he panted. "Catch your breath, Mac, and then you're going to finish me off."

Mac cocked his head, knowing an order when he heard one. Horatio was looking at him with that tired, yet stern look, his skewed copper hair seeming to give him even more of an air of control. Still, Mac had to ask. "Is that an order?"

Horatio gazed levelly at him, breathing hard through his nose. "Yes, it is. I let you have me, and now you're going to let me have you."

Mac wanted to protest, to assert dominance, and then he suddenly decided Oh, to hell with it. "Fine." It wouldn't be the first time Horatio had fucked him. Mac stood there with his hands on his hips, catching his breath. "How do you want it?" he almost grumbled.

Horatio braced his arms on the couch, flexed his leg muscles experimentally, and then stood. "Hold on to the armrest," he ordered quietly, gesturing to the arm of the couch.

So much for Mac's dominance. "You want me to bend over?" he grunted. On the inside, he was still quietly pissed about Horatio and Speed's constant nagging about Danny. And now Horatio wanted him to just bend over and take it?

Horatio nodded and went for the lube and condoms, sheathing his still-hard erection and capturing a large amount of the lubricant on two fingers. "I do. I want you just like that."

Mac sighed and bent slightly to grasp the arm of the couch with both hands, and behind him he felt the cool, slick fingers find his entrance. He hadn't bottomed to anybody since the redhead's last visit and that night had been his first time in years, and so he wasn't used to having someone else top him. Still, he remembered that he had rather enjoyed it last time.

He felt one finger breach him, then a second one not long after that, stretching and lubing him. He bit his lip to keep from groaning; he didn't want to give Horatio the satisfaction. A third finger joined the other two as Horatio prepared him with a steady and experienced hand. Then the fingers disappeared as Horatio slicked up his own length and poised himself. "Ready?" the older man murmured.

Mac restrained a sigh and simply nodded, and Horatio grasped his hips. Rather than push into Mac, though, he pulled the Marine back onto him, and to Mac's utter shock he found that he didn't mind quite so much after all. Especially not when Horatio buried himself completely and gave a soft growl of approval. "Remind me to do you more often," the redhead rumbled. "Speed is tight, but then again he does Kegel exercises. You, on the other hand…" and his voice trailed off as his hands pushed Mac away from him and then impaled him again, and Mac was chewing on his own lip before he realized it.

He thought about what Horatio had said back in Miami, how sometimes it was nice to just let someone else have control for a while. Mac sighed and gave up, pushing back against the redhead. Horatio gave a surprised grunt and thrust harder, and soon the two were slamming against each other with nearly everything they had.

Mac groaned suddenly as Horatio shifted his angle to hit his prostate, and Horatio gave a growling chuckle. "Speed calls this the 'organ-grinder position.'"

Mac snorted. He found himself getting hard again and he wanted to stroke himself but his arms were occupied. Horatio noticed and changed his angle again; he didn't want Mac coming again so soon. He needed the Marine to stay frustrated for a little while. Mac gripped the couch and bucked back into the redhead's steady thrusts, and in short order Horatio clenched his hands around Mac's hips and growled and came, his legs shaking again as he buried himself in that incredible tightness.

He panted as he hovered over Mac's back, and the Marine swallowed. "You okay?" he asked finally, feeling the older man trembling again.

Horatio gave a snort that came out as more of a wheeze as he staggered backward and free of his conquest. "I don't do this standing up very often."

Mac surprised himself with a chuckle as he straightened and turned to again help the redhead get safely to the couch. He was still hard but it didn't look like Horatio was going to be active again any time soon, and he sighed and located his shorts. He held onto them and took the messy condom that Horatio held out to him with a wry face, headed for the bathroom to throw it away and to clean himself up a little.

While he was gone, Horatio slipped his pants and boxers back on again and then busied himself with setting up the laptop. He checked his watch.

It was almost Show Time.

"Ya know, I like your eyes," Speed said softly, and Danny blinked. They were sitting near the back in a dimly lit sports bar, Danny working on a second beer and Speed casually nursing a Bavarian Lager. Speed liked to drink but he didn't have that much of a tolerance, and he needed to keep a clear head tonight.

"…thanks, I guess," the Italian mumbled slowly, obviously not used to that kind of thing.

"Don't be embarrassed. I've kinda got a thing for blue-eyed guys." Speed gave him a smile that was almost shy. "I swear, I just get lost staring at H's eyes. His are more of a sapphire, but yours… crystal."

Danny's eyebrows lifted. The last person to tell him that he had pretty eyes was his mother. "Crystal, eh?"

Speed nodded firmly. "Crystal."

The blond lifted an eyebrow. "And this is a good thing?"

"Danny, I just said that I like your eyes. It's a compliment. Deal with it."

Danny took a long swig of his beer, giving his drinking buddy a sideways look. "You're flirtin' with me, ain't ya?"

Speed gave a dark grin. "You bet your ass I am." He let his eyes rove down the slim figure. "You bet your fine, fine ass."

In the dim bar light, Speed could see Danny's ears starting to flush. Speed knew that he would end this night with Danny in his hotel bed, and he was already looking forward to it. Danny was starved for affection, and underneath his scruffy and cynical nature Speed was a hopeless romantic. Well, Horatio was, too, but the redhead's methods tended more toward demeanor and gestures, gifts and expensive dinners. Speed preferred to feed them home-cooked food, get 'em drunk, and flirt shamelessly until they caved.

Casually Speed checked his watch. He'd been forced to suffer through over an hour of watching baseball on the bar's TV—and listen to Danny rant and rave the entire time—and now it was getting pretty close to Show Time.

Speed got up. "C'mon, Danny, I want to go."

Danny outright whined at him, jabbing a finger at the TV. "Game's still on!" he protested.

Speed sighed and tugged at his sleeve. "Come on, you can watch the highlights later. I want to see more of the city."

Danny bitched and moaned and was finally led out of the bar. Speed shivered into his jacket; it felt like it'd dropped ten degrees, but that was probably because he'd been sitting under a low-hanging lamp and drinking and watching hot-blooded Danny get excited about the baseball game. And when Danny got excited, he tended to flush and sweat and leave Speed with a pretty good preview of what the Italian would look like naked and tangled in the bedsheets.

Speed was forced to bring up a painful subject as they walked. "I can't help but wonder what's been going through Mac's head."

Danny blinked. "Whaddaya mean?"

Speed steeled himself for his next words: "Well, I think he's an idiot."

Danny halted in the middle of the sidewalk, staring hard at him. "Why ya say that?" he growled.

Speed stopped as well, and gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Well, because apparently he doesn't do much thinking outside of the crime lab. I mean, what the hell crawled up his ass and died? You're great, Danny, and I've only known you in person for less than three hours."

Danny sighed and stared at the ground as he started walking again. "I don't know, Tim, honestly, I… I don't like ta say it, but I wish he'd get his head outta his ass. Or outta Claire's ass, more like."

"Well, they don't call 'em jarheads for nothing," Speed said drolly, deliberately baiting the Italian. "Nothing in their heads but what the government puts in there."

Danny took the bait. "Mac's the smartest guy I know!" he snapped, defending his lover's honor. Ex-lover. "He's just…"

"Blind?"

Danny gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah. Blind as a fuckin' bat."

"I don't know why he doesn't see how hot you are, at least." Speed let his eyes sweep over the Italian again. "If it was me, you'd have to shoot me to keep me from grabbing your ass every time I laid eyes on you."

Danny snorted. "Mac wouldn't do that even if we was still together."

"Not much of a 'public display of affection' type of guy, is he?"

This time Danny gave a raucous _hmph_. "Mac's so far back in the closet, he's diggin' out Christmas presents," he growled.

They fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence as they kept walking, Speed wondering silently if he'd just blown everything. This _had_ to work. He checked his watch again; he was going to be cutting it pretty close. He had to get Danny horny _now_, so he did the only thing he could think of and whipped his arms out to grab Danny's lapels and yank the startled Italian toward him, planting their lips together and hoping for the best.

Danny froze for a long minute, and like a spring thaw he gradually warmed to the touch and even began pressing back against him, running hesitant-turned-eager hands up and down Speed's back.

Finally they broke apart for air. "What the hell was that?" Danny gasped in wonder.

Speed shrugged a shoulder. "I decided to cut to the chase," he panted. "Want more?"

"You bet your ass." Danny latched onto him again, kissing him eagerly, almost desperately, and Speed found himself getting hard. Danny was one hot Italian man, and Speed was an exhibitionist, and the thought popped into his head about what this would look like if a cop decided to drive by.

And suddenly Speed pulled back. "We can't do this here," he puffed. "It's kinda against the law."

Danny nodded and huddled against his new friend, ostensibly for warmth but really to stick one hand in Speed's pocket and run a taunting finger along his stiffening cock. "Your place?"

"My place." Speed put his fingers in his mouth and whistled and then waved his arms, and like magic a taxi pulled to the curb next to him. "Shame that only happens to me when I'm on vacation," he muttered, and Danny snickered and grabbed his ass.

The cabby's eyebrows climbed to the ceiling as Danny squeezed in, then Speed next to him. Danny immediately latched onto his neck. Speed gave a throaty chuckle and gave the address, and added, "There's an extra twenty bucks for you if you keep quiet on the ride over." The driver nodded and remained silent the whole trip, but he was clearly unhappy at the sight of the two men making out like teenagers in his backseat.

The cabby made the trip in what felt to Speed to be record time, eager to get the men out of his car. Chuckling at the man's misery, Speed gave him an extra $10 on top of his $20. "For making good time," he explained. The cabby gave a humorless smile, took the money, and peeled away from the curb.

Speed paid utterly no attention to the looks (and remarks) he was getting in the hotel lobby as he and Danny waited for the elevator. All he cared about was how perfectly Danny's ass fit in his hands, and that Danny had good taste in alcohol as evidenced by the particles Speed was sucking from his tongue. For his part, Danny seemed to be hanging on for dear life as Speed manhandled him.

The elevator doors finally dinged open, and all the people waiting for the elevator decided to let the 'happy couple' have it to themselves. Speed backed into the little chamber with Danny still firmly attached and flicked a glance at the various faces over Danny's shoulder as he let go of the taut ass long enough to slap his floor number and then 'Close Door.' The minute the doors came together, Speed pulled back for air and started howling with laughter.

"What's so funny?" Danny demanded.

It took Speed a moment to reply. "Did you see their faces?"

Danny froze. "There were people watchin' us?"

"Don't let it bother you, Danny," Speed said quickly. "Look at your watch. We made that trip in record time _and_ got the next elevator _all to ourselves_, just because we were making out." He relaxed against the corner of the elevator and grinned shamelessly. "Sometimes it's _great_ to be gay."

Danny couldn't help it; he burst out laughing as well. "You're good, ya know it? I don't even _remember_ the last… however many minutes it was."

Speed blinked. "You don't?"

"Nope." Danny moved forward slowly, seductively. "Nothin' but this." And he leaned forward and captured Speed's mouth again.

Speed barely noticed when the doors dinged open, but he definitely noticed the feminine throat clearing. He broke apart and the two glanced at the woman in the business suit who was standing there tapping her foot. Speed glanced at the level indicator and saw that this was his floor after all, and grabbed Danny's hand and tugged him along the hallway toward his room.

When Mac came out of the bathroom, Horatio was standing over Mac's desk and booting up the laptop. Horatio glanced over and saw the curious look on his face. "Sit down, Mac," he said politely, indicating the chair in front of the desk and leaning over to tap on the keyboard and establish the wireless connection. "I have something I want you to see."

Mac gave him a suspicious look as he sat. "What is it?"

"You'll see," was all Horatio said as he leaned over Mac to logon to the camera's site and punch in the password. He straightened and looked at Mac, whose face became frozen in shock, then fury, and then _anguish_.

Mac couldn't tear his eyes from the screen. "Why are you showing me this?" he whispered.

"Because you need to see it," Horatio told him, using his commanding Master's tone as he plugged in the speakers. "Watch, Mac. Everything will be explained."

"Fuck, you're hot, Danny," Speed moaned into the Italian's mouth.

Danny just moaned back and started grinding his hips into Speed's crotch, or as much as he was able to considering that Speed had Danny's back pinned up against the wall. Speed had made it back into the hotel room just in time, and was now making a point to ravish the Italian in full view of the camera.

Mac was going to realize how much he wanted Danny back, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Speed dug around in his pants pocket, finally pulling out a small bottle of lube and a few condoms. He tossed all but one of the foil squares on the nightstand, then yanked Danny down onto the bed on top of him, running his lips along the younger man's throat and jaw.

"You always keep that in your pocket?" Danny asked, then was cut off as Speed began looking for his tonsils.

Speed gave an affirmative grunt as he mapped the inside of Danny's mouth with his tongue, finally pulling back for air. "Only when I think I'm gonna get some of the hottest ass in New York," he panted, diving back in for another 'look.'

Danny moaned as he felt Speed's hands all over him, helping the Italian to slide off his jacket and then his shirt. He arched his back and made a mewling noise as Speed's fingers found his nipples, pinching and teasing them gently, the older man grinding up into Danny's crotch. It took a while for Danny to come to his senses, and then only to sit up and gasp for oxygen and slide his hands under the hem of Speed's shirt, pulling the fabric up. He dove down, latching onto one of Speed's nipples amidst the dark forest of curls on the Miami man's chest, laving at the little pebble with his tongue, and Speed growled and threaded his fingers through Danny's dirty-blonde hair.

"Danny?" Speed rumbled.

"Huh?" Danny moved to the other nipple, sucking on it gently, and Speed's hips bucked.

"Danny, get your goddamn pants off, _now_."

Danny shivered and rolled off Speed, both men fumbling with their belts and flies, shoving the denim down and kicking the fabric off the bed, and Danny found himself yanked back onto Speed. The Italian's mind was awash with pure pleasure as Speed ran his hands over his slim body, finding all his buttons and pressing them with mad abandon. The feel of those hands roughly caressing his naked flesh, the heat rising from both of them, the definite erection nestled between Danny's ass cheeks that Danny felt every time he slid back, all made the Italian shudder and moan and lift up and back enough to sit down on top of Speed's dick, grinding the flesh against his perineum.

Speed growled again and clutched at Danny's shoulders, pulling the younger man down far enough to nip along the Italian's collarbone. "I have to fuck you," Speed panted.

"Oh, God," Danny moaned, grinding Speed harder as the older man's hand slapped around on the bed, searching for the lube and finally finding it, and handing it to Danny while Speed located the condom and tore it open with his teeth. Danny squirted a fair amount of the lube on his hand and rose up enough to find his own clenched, needy pucker, wasting no time in pushing a finger into himself, slicking up the hole.

Speed watched with glassy eyes as Danny fucked himself onto his second finger, twisting and scissoring and coating the tight ring of muscle with lube. A third finger was added, and Speed had to grab rough hold of his own cock and squeeze tightly at the base, trying to avoid coming at the sight. "Jesus, Danny, hurry up."

Danny took the condom, reaching underneath himself to roll it onto Speed's eager length, then slicked it up. He positioned himself carefully, Speed aiming, and both men gave identical, shuddering groans as Danny slid slowly down, Speed's erection slipping easily into that incredible tight heat.

"Fucking Christ, Danny," Speed growled once the younger man was sitting on his lap, Speed's broad hands grasping hold of the firm, taut ass. "Move, please move."

Danny moaned and ran his fingers through the tangle of hair on Speed's chest, coming to rest on the older man's pectorals as he rose up until he was almost free of Speed's cock and then slammed back down _hard_, earning him a sharp intake of breath from the dark Irishman's mouth. Speed licked his palm and wrapped it around Danny's length, holding his hand steady and letting every lift and fall of the Italian's hips stroke Danny's cock into his hand, and Danny moaned long and low, bouncing over Speed's hips, taking every inch of Speed that he could.

Speed chewed on his own lower lip; Danny was so tight, so _hot_, so eager for his cock, and Speed's free hand moved up Danny's hairless stomach to his lightly furred pectorals, teasing first one nipple and then the other as Danny rode him hard, fast, the Italian's head thrown back and senseless curses spilling from his mouth.

"God, Tim, I… I…"

"Oh, fuck, let me taste you!" Speed pleaded, urging Danny off him. Danny could only comply, eyes wide with lust and with a little confusion, before Speed flipped him onto his back and took Danny down his throat, milking his prostate with two fingers, and Danny arched his back and screamed in pure, mindless pleasure as he came, Speed gulping every single cell of Danny's come as the younger man writhed and howled.

Finally Speed drew back, licking his lips as he crawled up Danny's body to kiss him hard, sharing the taste of Danny's come even as Speed's cock found the Italian's ass again, and he plunged in with a single slow thrust. Danny moaned and kissed him wholeheartedly, their tongues dueling as Speed sped up, greedily seeking his own friction, and it was with a sudden shout that Speed reared his head back and came, pressing hard into that sweet, tight darkness one last time.

Speed pulled out regretfully, pausing to peel off his condom and toss it in the general direction of a trash can before he flopped bonelessly on the bed next to Danny. The Italian turned to wrap his arms around the older man, but to his immense surprise Speed moved first, cuddling close to Danny and running appreciative lips over his chest and neck and jaw and cheek and finally his mouth. "Fuck, Danny, that was great," Speed murmured, pulling the younger man close to him, and it was with something almost like a moan that Danny clung tight to Speed's darkly-haired chest, laying his head down on Speed's ribs and twining their legs together.

Danny had never known pleasure like this, to be so _appreciated_, and to have a sexual partner so concerned about Danny's pleasure rather than their own. And to have someone else pull him into a post-coital snuggle was the icing on the cake.

"That had to be the best sex I've ever had," Danny mumbled.

Speed craned his neck to look down at him. "Oh, come on, I'm sure you've had better sex than _that_," he protested, rephrasing the comment for the microphone's benefit.

"Well…" Danny thought a moment. "Maybe that one time, when it was me and H and… and Mac."

Speed snorted and hugged the younger man tightly. "That's a pile I would love to get in the middle of. Or the bottom."

Horatio bit his lip to keep silent as he watched the Marine's tight face. Mac hadn't moved a muscle since he'd first started watching the camera, and his dick was definitely hard again, but his hands were clenched on the arms of the chair with the knuckles almost white. Was he angry with Danny, for sleeping with Speed? Angry with Speed for giving Danny the praise and affection that Mac never had? Or angry with Horatio for setting up the whole thing?

"Did you catch that, Mac?" Horatio asked calmly. "He said your name when he came. It's been over a week since you broke up with him, and Danny is still calling your name."

Mac's hands trembled as he gripped the arms of the chair, his intense gaze still locked onto the sight of Danny being cuddled by Speed. His mind was at war with itself; half of him wanted to march over there and yank Danny away from Speed and fuck him into the mattress, and the other half whispered 'just let him go, he's not yours anymore.'

"He _is_ yours," Horatio insisted, and Mac realized that he must have spoken aloud. "Mac, isn't it obvious that you still have Danny's heart?"

Mac couldn't stop staring at his ex-lover. "He can't love me. He doesn't need to be with me. I'll just end up hurting him again."

Horatio was surprised at that little admission of guilt, but he kept his control. "You might be surprised."

"I can't forget about 'im!" Danny growled suddenly, and Speed's head popped up again.

"Who, Mac?"

"Yeah." Danny clutched the older man more tightly. "I miss him so fuckin' bad, Tim. I… I can't sleep unless there's somebody else there, ya know that? I can't sleep anymore."

Speed sighed and stroked the dirty-blond hair. "Does it help to remember him sleeping next to you?"

Danny shook his head.

"Well, I wish there was something I could do to help you forget him."

Something clicked in Danny's mind, and he sat up. "Why? Why do you want me to forget 'im?"

Speed looked at him calmly. "Because remembering him hurts you too bad."

"I work with the guy!" Danny growled, swinging his legs to sit on the edge of the bed. "I see him every day, and I just… I don't know! It hurts too much to remember bein' so close to 'im, ya know?"

"Then forget about him."

Danny looked at Speed as though he was slightly insane, and abruptly the Italian leapt to his feet. He'd had it, _had it!_ with Mac's insensitivity and Speed's vaguely conflicting answers. "Forget about 'im, don't forget about 'im, make up your goddamn mind!" Danny was livid, fists clenched as he stared down at the dark-haired man.

Speed was completely calm as he raised up to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm just trying to help." He stared back at Danny's wild blue eyes, his calm seeming to seep into the younger man, and slowly Danny's fists started to unclench. "I'm just trying to help you figure out what you want."

Danny swallowed. "You know what I want?"

"What?" Speed's voice was soft, understanding.

Suddenly Danny turned and sat heavily on the bed, burying his face into Speed's shoulder. Speed was ready for him, had seen it coming, and wrapped arms around the Italian. "What do you want, Danny?" Speed insisted as the younger man's shoulders shook.

"I want Mac back!" Danny howled, his grip on Speed's arms almost painful. "Just once, I wanna…"

"I'm listening, Danny."

Danny's breathing started to ease, his sobs diminishing. "Just once, I wanna tell 'im that I love 'im, the way you and H do."

Speed said nothing; he merely cradled Danny's head against his shoulder as the Italian burst into fresh tears. One hand stroked the back of Danny's soft blond hair as Speed raised his eyes to lock onto the camera, a protective anger darkening his gaze.

Mac knew that Speed was looking straight at him.

"He knows the camera's there?" Mac asked.

Horatio nodded. "He helped me set it up."

"Why?" the Marine repeated for the umpteenth time.

"Because you _needed_ to see it," Horatio repeated for just as many times. "You needed to see what you've been doing to him, and you needed to come to grips with just how much he cares about you. And how you care about him."

Mac's brows furrowed as he finally was able to tear his gaze from the screen. "What makes you think I care about him like _that_?"

Horatio went deathly still, his sapphire eyes beginning to smolder with their own icy heat, his lips curling with the beginnings of a snarl. "Don't lie to me, Mac. Don't ever lie to me. You may lie to yourself all you like, but do not _ever_ lie to me, especially about something like this."

"I'm not lying to you, or to myself," Mac snarled back, the muscles in his bull neck starting to stiffen. Horatio had just called him a _liar_?

"Of course you are," Horatio growled, straightening to his full height—something he only did with people that made him really and truly angry. Still sitting in the chair, Mac's hands had started to clench again, the veins standing out on his forehead. Between them the air itself seemed to vibrate with barely-contained violence.

Had Speed and Danny been present, they would have been diving for cover.

Horatio made a visible effort to unclench his fists. "I _love_ Speed," he declared quietly. "If Florida would recognize the union, I would actually marry him. Some people would cheer us on, and other people would hate us. That's the price we pay. Think, Mac, you didn't become a criminalist to make friends, so why should dating be any different?"

"Because it's…" Mac suddenly found himself unable to think of a good reason, and that only made him angrier.

Horatio went on. "Because he's male? Maybe that's just the way you both are, Mac. I prefer men, and Speed is gay. Bisexual people like you and I, Mac, we don't exclude half the population from sex so why should they be excluded from love as well?"

Horatio's words made sense, made _so_ much sense, and Mac wanted to agree with him but there was still the matter of his wife. "I can't be with him," Mac insisted. "What about Claire?"

Horatio cocked his head. "What about her? She's dead." At Mac's sudden twitch, the redhead stood straighter. "What disservice are you doing her? Are you going to stay celibate and miserable for the rest of your life, to honor her memory?" Horatio's tone mocked the Marine. "She wouldn't want that, Mac, and you know it."

"You don't even know her!" Mac was on his feet in one smooth, frighteningly fluid movement, his entire body clenched in anger. "I love her, goddamn you!"

"You _loved_ her," the older man corrected quietly, and his sudden passiveness managed to break through the Marine's blind rage. "She's _gone_, Mac," Horatio reminded him gently. "She has been for how long now? How many years, Mac? I won't doubt that you were deeply in love with her, but don't you think it's time you said goodbye?"

Mac's hands trembled, though from rage or sorrow Horatio couldn't tell.

The redhead pressed on. "Speed has a theory about death. He says that if you try too hard to hold on to someone that's gone, all you're doing is keeping them anchored to this world by your own regrets. Don't make her suffer anymore by watching you, Mac. Move on. Let _her_ move on."

Mac's eyes closed briefly, and then he looked at the laptop. Speed had coaxed Danny to lay back down with him and simply be held, and the sight of someone else holding Danny made Mac's eyes close again.

There was a hollow look to his face when he finally gazed back at the redhead, and his shoulders slumped. All the anger had gone out of him, to be replaced with a sort of whipped guilt that looked distinctly out of place on the Marine. "Horatio," Mac started quietly, "What do I do?"

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

Speed and Danny had moved to the couch in the main area of the hotel room. They both had put their jeans back on and Danny had put on his shirt as well, and the Italian was nursing yet another beer as he was trying to explain to Speed why baseball was so great.

Speed just didn't see what all the fuss was about, but he regarded the younger man with amusement anyway. And then there was a knock on the door.

"Coming!" Speed called as he hopped up from the couch.

Danny blinked at him. "You order pizza or somethin'?"

"Nope." Speed looked through the peephole, stood back, and flung open the door. In seconds Horatio was in his arms, kissing him madly.

Danny's jaw hit the floor, his eyes locked onto the couple. Suddenly Horatio pulled back and gasped for air. "Hey, Speed," he wheezed.

"Hey, H," Speed growled, locking his mouth onto the side of Horatio's neck, trying to work his tongue beneath the redhead's collar. Horatio's fingers threaded through the dark disheveled hair, pressing his lover harder into his neck, then just as suddenly urged him to draw back.

One arm around Speed's waist, Horatio turned and beckoned into the hall. "Come on in," he urged whoever was standing there. Danny wondered who it was, but then the Italian froze as he heard an achingly familiar voice that answered that question.

"I don't want to interrupt anything," Mac told the redhead wryly.

Horatio frowned, and Speed walked around him to grab hold of Mac's lapels and drag him into the room. Mac wasn't one to be dragged, but he went along with it anyway. "Get in here," Speed growled. "I can't fuck him while you're holding the door open."

Mac chuckled and entered the room, and Speed released him and fell into Horatio again. The Marine sighed and shook his head, closing the door behind him. "Lock it," Horatio grunted out of the corner of his mouth as Speed's hands wove through his hair. Mac simply looked at the pair for a moment before he turned and locked the knob, threw the deadbolt, and put the security chain into place. Then he turned, and he saw Danny.

Danny was staring at him, paralyzed, a look of helpless fear and longing on his face. Mac instantly hated himself, knowing full well that he had been the one to put that look on that face.

"I've been a real bastard, haven't I?" Mac murmured, staring at the Italian.

"Yes, you have," Speed growled as he slid his hands under Horatio's jacket to peel it off. He started to say something else but then Horatio captured his lover's tongue and sucked _hard_ on it, and Speed gave an aroused groan and renewed his efforts to strip the redhead of any and all clothing.

Danny saw the pair coming his way and hopped up, getting out of the way as Horatio and Speed staggered backward to the couch, their hands all over each other, lips trying to devour each other's tongue, shedding clothing all along the way. Mac and Danny could only stare, eyes wide and pants tight, as the two Miami lovers finally found the couch and Speed almost casually tossed Horatio down onto his back before swiftly covering the redhead with his own body.

Speed still had his pants on, and Horatio had only managed to lose his shoes, over-shirt, and jacket, but that seemed to make no difference to the pair as they kissed urgently, desperately, Horatio's hands running up and down Speed's back even as the younger man seemed intent on swallowing the redhead's tongue.

Speed growled something that Mac couldn't hear as the dark-headed Irishman locked his lips onto the side of Horatio's neck even as his broad hands worked roughly at Horatio's clothing, stripping him at a desperate pace. Speed yanked Horatio's undershirt up the slim chest as far as he could, descending on a nipple without so much as a blink, and Horatio threaded his fingers through his lover's hair and groaned.

Danny blinked at the couple. "That's hot," he said quietly, casually massaging the front of his pants.

Mac nodded. Having Danny nearby seemed so… familiar, and the little show that Horatio and Speedle were putting on was doing nothing to calm Mac's libido. He wanted nothing more than to fling Danny down and fuck him like Speed was apparently preparing to do to Horatio, but he shouldn't, he really shouldn't, because…

"Mac?" Danny's voice pulled the Marine out of his lust-distracted contemplation, and he turned to see that the Italian's eyes had darkened considerably, his jeans looking painfully tight in the front. "Can I talk to you?"

_I have to make things right_, Mac told himself. _Horatio is right, I have to let Claire go… but I'm going to need Danny's help to do it_. Mac nodded and allowed the Italian to lead him back to the bedroom. Danny's sharp eyes noted that the bottle of lube and pile of condoms that Speed had produced earlier had migrated onto the other bed, the one without the special bedding, but he didn't say anything.

They stood several feet away from each other, as though they were both desperate to throw themselves at each other but were afraid of the consequences. Drawn to the fire but still so afraid of getting burned. Finally Mac sighed. "Hey."

"Hey."

They eyed each other, and then suddenly they were both trying to talk at once. They paused and shook their heads and gave humorless smiles. "You first, Mac."

Mac sighed and paced the room, and Danny stepped back to give him space. "About all those things I said… I don't know, Danny, it's like I just can't let her go. I want to, but at the same time I know that if I do, I'll… I'll lose something. I'll lose a piece of myself."

Danny took a breath; Speed had told him that if he ever got a chance to talk to Mac like this again, he should tell it straight and stop trying to be delicate. In Speed's words, 'There's a time for tact and a time for sledgehammers. Figure out which one will get you through his thick head the fastest.'

Danny made himself look at the Marine. "Ya lost that part a long time ago, Mac. You just ain't wantin' ta admit it."

"I know," Mac said with a heavy sigh. "I just… I want her back so bad, Danny, you know?"

"Yeah, you want her back like I want _you_ back. Difference between me an' her is that she _ain't_ comin' back, and I'm standin' right here. Ya act like you're waitin' for her."

Mac rubbed his neck. "I guess I am. I just never realized that I've been holding out hope all this time. She was never found, so there's always that one astronomical chance—"

"Which you know damn good and well that it ain't gonna happen." Danny hunched his shoulders and glared at him. "You're always pushin' the science, Mac. What's the science tellin' ya?"

Mac did something he rarely did, which was fold his hands behind his back and stare at the floor. "That I'll never see her again. That she's been gone for good this entire time, and I've been a hopeless fool to wait for her."

Danny was getting a strange sort of satisfaction from standing there and berating the Marine, but now he was beginning to see Mac's side of the story. "Hey… if you were ever in a buildin' that blew up, I know I'd never quit diggin' until I found ya," he said softly.

Mac blinked rapidly for a moment. "I know," he whispered.

"And would ya do the same if it was me?" Danny asked firmly.

Mac put his hands in his pockets and kept looking at the floor. "I'd do the same for anyone I cared about, Danny."

Danny frowned. "Ya didn't answer me, Mac. Would ya wait five years for me?"

Mac thought about it, thought good and hard, and finally he gave a single nod. "I think so."

"Not good enough," Danny grunted, and Mac looked up sharply. "I need a yes or a no outta ya, Mac."

Mac spread his hands helplessly, feeling all the things he wanted to say building up inside of him like water behind a dam, a dam made by the lingering spirit of his wife. "I… I can't , Danny. I just…"

Something inside Danny finally snapped. "You know what, _fuck you_," he snarled. "I've been tearin' myself ta fuckin' pieces over ya, and you just…" He snapped a hand up to scratch the back of his neck and spun to turn his back on the Marine, stomping over to another corner of the room, his free hand clenched into a shaking fist. Mac had never seen Danny so angry at _him_, and he was too stunned to give his usual irate reaction… until Danny crossed the line.

"You know what, Mac?" Danny growled into his corner. "You're just afraid of your own goddamn feelin's! You're usin' Claire to keep everybody else outta your life, so you can be alone and feel sorry for yourself!"

That did it; the mention of _her_ name was all Mac needed to focus his mind to razor's clarity, to make a tiny hole in the dam within his mind, and then finally the wall came tumbling down. "_All right, goddamn it!_" he roared suddenly. "_I love you!_ I couldn't tell you, because I was just so…"

The Marine trailed off as Danny whirled and his jaw dropped. The younger man's lithe body shivered, his expression so blindsided that he was impossible to read.

Mac sighed and sat heavily on the bed closest to him—_not_ the one that Danny had just been fucked on—resting his face in his hands. "I was so messed up inside. I didn't know which way was up, and there were so many things that still seemed wrong, and I just… I ran away from it." He scrubbed at his face with his palms.

"Say it again."

Startled, Mac looked up at Danny, who was staring at him with a gaze so intense… Mac had never seen him so _focused_ before. "Say it again," the Italian whispered softly.

Mac sat up straight and opened himself to judgment. "I love you, Danny."

Danny's slim frame trembled. "You're not… just sayin' that, are ya?"

"No," Mac said firmly. "I mean it."

Danny froze, and suddenly Mac was on his back with Danny on top of him, the younger man making up for lost time by kissing him hard, stealing Mac's breath. Mac groaned and clutched at the Italian desperately, thrusting his tongue into the eager mouth, and Danny moaned.

"I'm so sorry, Danny," Mac whispered, running his lips on the underside of Danny's jaw.

"s'alright," Danny whimpered, Mac's hands tracing almost needy lines up and down his sides. "Just get in me, would ya?"

"No, wait, I need to apologize and—"

"Shaddap and fuck me already!" Danny growled desperately. "Take me back, Mac, please!"

The words flicked a switch in Mac's brain, and the Marine rolled so that he was on top of his lover, nipping at his throat and yanking at the shirt. Danny fumbled to help and as soon as he was shirtless Mac dove down and pressed his lips firmly to Danny's neck, applying the intense pressure needed to mark him, darkly and visibly for all to see.

"I love you," Mac rumbled again, running his lips up and down the younger man's windpipe. Danny whimpered again and tilted his head back, baring his throat, and the sight inflamed Mac's animal side and he rained kisses along that most vulnerable of areas, returning to his conquest on Danny's neck to mark him more firmly. "Mine," Mac growled.

An odd, repetitive sound permeated Mac's consciousness and he paused to listen, realizing that it was the noises of Speed fucking the stuffing out of Horatio.

"Jesus, they're goin' at it hard," Danny muttered with a huge smile on his face, hearing the sounds of flesh striking flesh coming from the 'living room' area of the hotel room.

Mac snorted. "I'm amazed Horatio can withstand that, after what he went through day before yesterday. Not to mention what I did to him less than an hour ago."

Danny looked the slightest bit hurt at hearing that Mac had fucked Horatio, but he was still curious. "What happened to 'im night before last?"

Mac explained, somehow able to maintain a straight face, about what Speed had done to the redhead: tie him down and have him get fucked by six different men, and then finish it off with a fisting. Danny's eyes were huge by the time Mac was done.

"A whole arm?" Danny asked, his mouth hanging open.

Mac nodded. "Almost all the way to the elbow. I saw it with my own eyes." He took advantage of Danny's open mouth to shove his tongue inside it, and Danny moaned and grasped Mac's shoulders hard. Then Danny remembered purpose, and he began working on Mac's jacket and overshirt. Mac growled and did his best to assist while still licking the back of his lover's throat, and finally he broke the contact to kneel up and undo the buttons and get himself shirtless.

Danny's mouth watered at the sight of the muscular chest that he hadn't seen in so long, and he slid out from between the Marine's knees to sit up and capture a nipple in his mouth as he started fumbling with Mac's belt. Mac's eyes closed and he gave a soft sigh of approval, his hands finding Danny's hair of their own volition.

"God, I missed you, Danny," Mac rumbled, and Danny only gave a little moan and started yanking Mac's pants and boxers down to his knees, and then Danny seemed to _inhale_ Mac's cock and the Marine groaned. He was already hard as steel, and Danny's soft and familiar mouth on his aching length felt absolutely _wonderful_.

Mac suddenly and gently pulled Danny away, and the Italian gave a despondent whimper. "Easy, Danny, I don't want to come yet."

Danny's eyes darkened as Mac released him to lay on his side and finish stripping. As Mac dropped his clothes onto the floor, something caught his eye and he lifted his gaze to find the lube and a few condoms lying so conveniently nearby on the pillow like some gaudy hotel service. Inwardly he nearly laughed; Horatio and Speed had planned this, down to every last tiny detail.

"What's so funny?" Danny asked in a voice rough with arousal, and Mac realized that he'd been smiling broadly.

Mac shook his head and allowed himself to chuckle. "Tim and Horatio, and this… evil plot of theirs, I guess you could call it." His broad hands reached for the bottle and a foil square, ripping the little packet open with his teeth and unrolling the Latex onto his roaring erection and then slicking himself up. "Danny, get those jeans off, please."

Beside him, Danny promptly rolled onto his side for better leverage as he shimmied out of his jeans, and Mac curled up behind him, nipping at the lovingly bruised neck as his fingers explored Danny's ass, finding it still lubed and stretched from Speed. The thought of another man fucking _his_ lover sent a tremor through Mac's muscular body, and he growled as he aimed his slick cock and sank a few inches into the writhing body next to him.

"Oh fuck, Mac, I missed ya," Danny moaned, instantly pressing back onto Mac's thick length. He still needed a little stretching but he didn't care; it was _Mac's_ incredible rod that was wonderfully rearranging his insides, and his legs started shaking. "God, I love ya! Fuck me, Mac, please!"

Mac couldn't find it in himself to disappoint his again-lover. He'd wanted to take it slow, to take his time to enjoy Danny, but there was a deep, burning need within him to _take_ the Italian, to pound the slim body through the mattress and make sure Danny knew just who was fucking him, who was making him writhe and scream and howl with pleasure.

Who Danny belonged to. Who _Mac_ belonged to.

Each other.

Mac buried himself in the exquisite warmth that he'd denied himself for so long. There was just something about Danny that set him apart from every other man Mac had fucked; he was sure that if the situation ever somehow came about that there was some sort of twisted lineup of asses, he'd know which one was Danny's. They just… fit together perfectly. It was as though Danny was _made_ for Mac's incredible girth, like a key to a lock.

"_Speed_!" Horatio's voice roared suddenly from the direction of the couch.

"_Oh God, H_!" Speed thundered a few seconds later.

Mac snorted and put a hand on Danny's hip to push him away and then bring them back together, and Danny moaned loudly. "Oh, _fuck_, Mac, fuck me…"

"Yesss," Mac rumbled into his ear. God, Danny felt so good, so _tight_. "So good," he murmured, and Danny whimpered again. That brought another painful fact to Mac's attention: how often did he actually tell Danny how much he appreciated him? "Danny, you feel so wonderful."

Danny's head sagged, panting, and one hand clutched the bedsheets while the other reached behind him to Mac's waist as though to beg Mac, and Mac slid out and pushed in again. Mac's own hand on Danny's hip moved down to his thigh, and without any further prompting Danny lifted the leg so Mac could grasp it and get a better angle as he slowly increased his pace until he was pounding into that blessed heat. Every stroke of that tight ring of muscle against Mac's cock was so familiar, so achingly familiar, and it burned his soul to think that he had thrown it away. He'd tossed Danny away, and for what? Because of some goddamn rumors floating about them? Because of a dead woman?

It was with a startling burst of clarity that Mac reached a decision. He wasn't dishonoring Claire's memory by being with Danny. Claire would have wanted him to be _happy_, and if Danny made him happy then so be it. Danny _loved_ Mac, and Mac realized that yes, he did love Danny back.

And in his mind, Mac gently kissed his wife goodbye for the final time.

"I love you, Danny," Mac growled, nibbling on the Italian's ear. Danny couldn't reply; his brain had gone completely haywire, concentrating on one thing and one thing only and that was Mac's thick cock slamming into him with reckless abandon. Mac fired his hips into that tight heat over and over, and began growling "Mine!" with every thrust, claiming the Italian. _Re_claiming him.

Mac snaked one arm underneath Danny and around his waist, wrapping his hand around the younger man's wildly leaking cock as his other hand grasped Danny's leg and pulled the Italian back onto his powerful thrusts, stroking him inside and out.

Danny finally found his voice, and a litany of curses and praises and Mac's name spilled from the Italian's mouth in a stream that gradually increased tempo and volume until Danny was nearly screaming, and then Danny _was_ screaming as he was coming, coming around _Mac_ and squeezing him tight as though to hold him in and never let him go, and Mac came at nearly the same time and he shouted his lover's name and slammed home one last time, burying himself to the hilt, glorying in the feeling that came from releasing inside _Danny_, stroking the Italian's sputtering cock, milking him, holding him, loving him.

For one glorious, perfect moment, Mac and Danny were_ one_, their minds shooting through the clouds, descending back to their bodies in lazy spirals. Then they were back to Earth, Mac still inside his lover, both of them covered with sweat and a streak of glistening come from Danny marring the bedspread.

"I love you," Mac panted again, cradling the younger man. "I don't deserve you, I really don't."

Danny reached behind him to run his fingers through Mac's hair, and the Marine kissed him on the shoulder. "I forgive ya, Mac," he gasped. "Just don't ever do it ta me again, aright?"

"Never," Mac growled. "Never again, Danny, I swear." He rested his lips on his lover's shoulder as they caught their collective breath. "I love you," he murmured.

Danny smiled; now that Mac had finally allowed himself to say it, he couldn't stop. "Love ya… jarhead."

Mac jerked his head up in surprise. "Don't tell me you're going to start calling me that."

Danny cocked his head casually, pressing his back into the firm chest behind him. "I might, if I think ya deserve it. You're a good detective, Mac, but ya can't read your boyfriend worth shit."

Mac couldn't help it; the sheer bluntness caused him to explode into laughter. He could feel all his worries, all his regrets dissolve at that moment, and he wrapped his arms around his lover in a fierce embrace.

Danny allowed himself to be cradled for a moment. "Hey, Mac?"

"Hm?"

"Ribs?"

Mac's grip slackened instantly. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Easy, _amante_, I'm jokin'." Danny twisted his head around to give Mac a playful smile.

Mac kissed the smile; God, Danny's smile. It was so good to see it again. "What'd you call me?"

"_Amante_. It's Italian. Means, well…" and here Danny had the nerve to blush, a look that made Mac's cock twitch while softening inside the Italian's body. "Means 'lover.'"

Mac tilted his head. He tried out the word, and decided that he liked the way it rolled off his tongue. "_Amante_, huh? Okay."

Speed poked his head up long enough to watch Mac and Danny head into the bedroom, then immediately dropped back down to fasten on Horatio's other nipple. The redhead groaned and mustered enough brainpower to finish pulling off his own undershirt, then went to work on Speed's nipples—rather hard to do while Speed had his lips to Horatio's chest.

Finally Speed came up for air. "Did he tear you?" he growled softly, working on the fly of his pants.

"No, but it was a close call," Horatio rumbled with a shake of his head, fumbling with his own belt. "Mark me, Speed."

Speed's eyes darkened with lust. "Oh, I'm going to." He lowered himself carefully and swiped fingers underneath the couch, where earlier he'd stashed a bottle of lube. He found it and set it on the coffee table, suddenly forced to stand so he and his lover could finish getting naked.

When this was accomplished, Horatio spread his legs and Speed knelt between them, dribbling lube onto his fingers and then moving them toward the redhead's entrance, and Horatio grunted.

"Easy," he whispered. "I'm not sure I can handle being on the bottom for very much longer."

Speed gave him a deep smile. "Just one more time, H, then that tight ass of yours can take a vacation. Sound good?"

"Does it ever," Horatio affirmed, running slim fingers through Speed's chest hair, appreciating the younger man that was working on his ass with strained patience. Horatio's rear had been through quite a bit in the past few days and the last thing either of them wanted was an injury to such a sensitive area.

Right now, both of them were possessed by the same urge that always hit them after sleeping with other people: to have sex with each other, to re-stake their claim on the body of the one they loved. Speed declared his lover ready and slicked up his bare cock, aiming and sliding slowly in. It was one benefit of Mac having been Horatio's most recent top: the only stretching Horatio needed was the kind he'd get from Speed's slightly longer dick.

Speed buried himself, savoring the sensations of being inside his lover as Horatio wrapped his legs around the brunette's waist. "Feels good, Speed," he groaned.

"Feels damn good," Speed concurred, pulling out and pushing back in and quickly establishing a quick pace. In no time he was chanting "mine, mine, mine, mine," in time with his thrusts, the word like a mantra as he rocked his hips against Horatio's ass, their stomachs grinding against the older man's erection with blessed friction that had the redhead groaning in a disjointed rhythm to that of his lover.

Speed paused, suddenly, as a familiar voice roared from the bedroom "_All right, goddamn it! I love you!_"

Horatio actually snorted. "Well, that's one way to tell it," the redhead gasped as Speed resumed his movement.

Speed snickered and slowed his pace. "It's a damn sight better than the first time we said it to each other, though. I was still a damn cripple, remember?"

"Mm-hmm." Horatio licked his lips as the memory came back to him. "First time I've ever been pinned down and ravished by a man with one functioning arm."

Speed grinned down at his lover and made a show of shifting his weight, both of his arms holding his torso above the redhead. "I'm think cured now, H," he rumbled huskily, giving an extra-hard thrust of his hips for emphasis.

"That you are," Horatio agreed, one hand sliding down his chest to stroke his own cock slowly.

"Mm, love watching you touch yourself," Speed murmured, lowering himself to shove his tongue down Horatio's throat. He almost immediately came back up, panting as he began to pick up his pace. "Mission accomplished?"

"Mission accomplished," Horatio confirmed as Speed pounded into him. "Now fuck me, Speed."

Speed nodded, his breathing too labored to talk, and he hooked one of his lover's legs over his shoulder as he thrust into that dark heat again and again, scrubbing every trace of Mac away and replacing it with himself.

Horatio rested one hand on Speed's free shoulder, the other hand stroking his own cock. "God, Speed, I love you," the redhead hissed through his gasping breaths. Speed was really giving it to him _hard_, almost as hard as Mac had.

"Love… you, too… H…" Speed wheezed back, his hips slamming him into Horatio with loud slaps that couldn't help carrying to the New Yorkers' ears. "H… mine…"

"I'm yours, Speed," Horatio affirmed, his strokes on his length getting faster. "God, I'm… coming…"

"Come, H, come for me," Speed growled through his last reserves of strength. "Come all over me, H!"

Horatio did, coming with a loud "_Speed_!" and a bruising grip on his lover's shoulder, his back arching, eyes tightly closed as he shot between their bodies, the milky white fluid coating his and Speed's chests.

The pressure, the emotion, was all too much and Speed gratefully slammed home one last time, screaming his lover's name and releasing his seed into his lover's body, coating him, marking him. He hovered over the redhead, gasping for air, his arms trembling. Horatio barely had the strength to catch him before Speed flopped down onto the sticky chest, still buried inside him.

"Mine," Speed wheezed. They lay there for a while, panting. "Love you, H."

Horatio wrapped his arms tightly around the younger man. "Love you, too, Speed. That was perfect." Speed gave a sleepy mumble and made as though to fall asleep right there. "Don't you dare, lover. The evening's not over yet."

Speed gave a grudging nod and pulled out slowly, and Horatio gave a pained groan as his abused entrance clamped closed and began to re-establish its hermetic seal. "That does it," Horatio growled softly. "Remind me to have that looked at when we get home."

"Definitely," Speed murmured, bending to look at the damage. "You're not bleeding and I don't see any tears, at least."

Horatio blew out a heavy breath as Speed bent down to lick the come from his lover's chest. "And you want to know the worst part of it?" the redhead grumbled.

"What's that?"

Horatio gave a dry smile. "I took a pill."

Speed stared at him, then snorted. "Well, as soon as _they_," and he pointed in the general direction of the bedroom, "get done, maybe one or both of 'em can help you take care of that."

The older man gave him a Look. "You took one, too."

"Guilty, but at least all the important parts are still in business." Speed had the nerve to _smirk_ at Horatio and his well-worn backside.

Horatio growled, a sound that was far from amused.

Speed gave his lover a too-casual shrug. "You're paying for your pleasures, H. I could've found a stunt bottom for that scene back in Miami."

"It had to be one of us," Horatio argued, "and Mac needed to see that I trusted you enough to let you do that to me. In my relationship with you, he sees me as the dominant one both in and out of the bedroom, and the prospect of letting you top me gave him something to think about." Horatio thought for a moment. "I think I'm the only one that he's ever really bottomed to, and in this situation I use the term _very_ loosely."

"Yeah? He actually obey an order?"

Horatio tilted his head before giving a grudging nod. "The first time, I got him to ride me without protection. Tonight I got him to bottom to me again after I bottomed to him."

"Impressive," Speed told his lover, and he meant it. "I'm amazed that you got him to obey any orders at all. I mean, sure, he's had plenty of experience _following_ orders, but when it comes to sexual orders, it'd kinda go against the grain. He might obey, but I doubt he'd submit."

The older man chuckled. "It was actually a close call tonight. He slammed me against the wall and gave it to me so hard, my legs gave out. It took everything I had to keep control."

Speed blinked, then he sighed. "When are you gonna learn, H? Those skinny little bird legs of yours aren't made for standing fucks, especially when you bottom."

Horatio grumbled something unintelligible.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Speed asked in a teasing tone.

Horatio gave him a warning look. "I said, oh so kind and generous and strong young lover of mine, would you get off your lazy ass and get me something to drink?"

"See, was that so hard?" Speed asked innocently, climbing to his feet.

"Well, it _was_," Horatio said casually with a nod to Speed's now-limp cock. Speed frowned and flipped his lover a one-finger salute as he headed over to the mini-bar and came back with a pair of bottled waters. "Thanks, Speed," Horatio said as he took one of them. "And don't even think about playing with that on me. Not tonight."

Speed grumbled—he liked playing with cold things, dammit—and padded into the bathroom, pausing to peer at Mac and Danny before heading back to his favorite redhead with a white hotel towel. "Here ya go, H. Clean up before you sit up. I don't want to hurt Mac and Danny's eyes if they ever have to use an ALS in here."

Horatio nodded at that and folded the towel, laying it neatly on the seat and then raising to sit on it. He patted the couch to his right and Speed sank down next to him with a weary sigh. "It's been a long night," Speed groaned.

"It's been a long few nights," Horatio corrected. "What did you see when you looked in at our friends, by the way?"

Speed gave him a funny look. "You don't hear that? They're going at it like weasels in heat, H! Maybe you need to get your hearing checked."

"Well, I can hear _Mac_ moving just fine, but Danny's being quiet for once," Horatio explained. They listened for a moment, the repetitive sounds of flesh slamming together less than discreet.

Speed had to admit, his lover had a point. "Danny looks like his brain should be dripping from the ceiling, Mac's doing him so hard. I'd be worried about him, but they need this. We can check on 'em when they're done."

Horatio nodded as the pounding, slapping noises seemed to get louder, and Danny's voice finally began to carry as incoherent babbling. "Sounds like they're close," Horatio murmured.

Indeed they were: Danny's voice rose in volume and in pitch. "Ah God, Mac, fuck! Oh, fuck me, fuck me, I… Mac, I… _Ah God, Mac!!!_"

Mac gave an answering roar, consisting of Danny's name and punctuated by one final thrust of his hips, the impact of flesh sounding out like the crack of a pistol.

Speed and Horatio winced at the noise. "Jesus," Speed muttered. "I don't think you're the only one that's gonna need to see the doctor."

Horatio tilted his head and listened hard. "At least he doesn't sound like he's in pain. Danny's not like us; he doesn't like pain, and I'm sure he'd let Mac know if things got out of hand."

Speed thought for a moment. "I know we went over it with Mac, but did you and Danny ever discuss safewords?"

The older man made a face. "No, but Mac said that he had. I think I believe him."

Speed sighed and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "We might need a refresher course after that."

Horatio nodded, and they waited. Soon enough, they twisted to glance over their shoulders as Mac and Danny came staggering from the bedroom, both naked, tousled, and still faintly perspiring. Danny had an arm slung over Mac's shoulder and was walking rather delicately, and Mac looked as though even his hard-developed stamina was wearing out. What caught the Miami pair's eyes was the set of identical, soft and happy smiles on both their faces.

Speed and Horatio just waited, scooting over to make room as the New Yorkers sank onto the couch as one, Danny not quite muffling his grunt. Speed grabbed Horatio's water and set it on the table beside his own right side as the redhead casually rested an elbow on the back of the couch next to Mac's shoulder. "So?" Horatio inquired calmly.

For an answer, Mac scooped Danny into his lap and cradled him almost possessively, laying a kiss to the damp dirty-blond hair. Danny's arm had never left the Marine's shoulder, and now it curled around Mac's neck to pull the older man down for a hug and a soft kiss.

Speed leaned over to press his own kiss to Horatio's neck. "I think it worked, H."

Mac heard him, and turned to look at his friends. "Thank you, both of you."

Horatio smiled and gave a gracious nod. "I have to ask, Mac. Claire?"

"Gone, but not forgotten." Mac sighed and tightened his grip around his Italian.

"Good answer," Speed responded. "And Danny?"

Danny snuggled into Mac's embrace, burying his face in the muscular neck. "Love ya, Mac," he mumbled into the taut flesh.

Mac smiled and hugged him tighter. "Love you, Danny."

"And that's what we were waiting to hear," Horatio finished, turning to give Speed a kiss.

There was a long and comfortable silence, and abruptly Speed slapped his thighs and stood. "Who's hungry?"

Danny's stomach growled; he and Speed hadn't eaten anything earlier, and the Italian lifted a hand. "Pizza sounds good."

After a moment, Mac nodded. "A little junk food can't hurt. How does Meat Lover's sound?"

Danny eyed him. "I like mine with extra pepperoni."

"There's pepperoni on a Meat Lover's," Mac insisted.

"You like peppers, Danny?" Horatio interrupted. Danny shook his head, and Horatio sighed.

They were all but squabbling over the toppings when suddenly Speed stood up. "All right, we can settle this the easy way. We can get one large pizza with extra pepperoni and with peppers on one side, and I'll share a large Meat Lover's with Mac. Sound fair?"

There were noises of grudging agreement, and Speed sat back down. "Okay, natives, where's a good place to order these from?"

Danny immediately volunteered the name of a place, and Mac stood to find a phone book. "Who's paying?" The Marine asked absently as he leafed through the pages.

"I am," Horatio said firmly. "You paid for dinner, Mac, remember?"

Mac blinked. "I did?"

Speed snorted. "That's H for ya. He gives you that look that gets you so distracted, you'll do anything to get him home and fuck him six ways from Sunday."

Horatio instantly turned to give a look very much like that to his lover, but Speed held a hand between his gaze and the redhead's. "I have my ways of being immune to your sexy evil, foul creature!" Speed mock-growled.

Danny was clutching his sides and laughing at the exchange. "You clowns are gonna end up slayin' me!"

"You mean he actually has self control?" Mac snorted as he picked up the hotel phone. "Never mind, don't answer that. Just keep it down for a moment."

The group got quiet as Mac ordered, and then he hung up. "Half an hour," he informed them, and then he paused. "And we're all naked." He and Danny immediately headed back into the bedroom for their clothes, and Horatio began browsing on the floor for his own.

"So, what's wrong with being naked?" Speed lifted an eyebrow.

"Speed," Horatio sighed, slipping back into his dress pants and undershirt.

Speed looked at him. "What?"

"Put some pants on."

"Oh, come on," Speed grumped. "What's the point of getting up and putting pants on for just a few minutes? I'm gonna be yanking them off as soon as the delivery boy's gone, you know."

Horatio eyed him levelly. "Speed, Mac and Danny are prominent figures in law enforcement in this section of the city, and people still know me on sight. I don't want to compromise anyone's reputation."

Speed grumbled and sighed and stood, headed for the bedroom and his flight bag. When he came back he was wearing a pair of sweatpants, and it was obvious from the slight twisting of the fabric against the inside of his right thigh that he wasn't wearing anything else, either. "Happy?" he growled.

"Ecstatic," Horatio replied drolly.

Mac and Danny followed him out of the bedroom, Mac in his pants and overshirt and Danny in his shirt and jeans. "What's wrong with clothing?" Mac finally asked. "Unwrapping the package is part of the fun."

Speed waved a hand dismissively. "Clothes get in the way, and to me it's just a waste of time."

Danny snorted. "Just don't come bitchin' ta me when ya drop hot pizza on your dick."

"Speed's a very careful eater," Horatio put in mildly.

They bantered back and forth until the pizza showed up, and Horatio paid the young delivery boy while Danny grabbed the warm cardboard boxes, and the pair made their way back to the couch. Speed immediately stood and was all set to yank his sweatpants back off when Horatio grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Your point is made, and wearing clothing is not going to hurt you."

Speed sighed and relented. "Only for you, H," he grumbled.

They resumed their earlier positions on the couch and began diving for cheesy handmade Italian goodness, and both Horatio and Speed had to give their dues to authentic New York Style pizza. Speed the cook took careful tastes as though trying to discern the ingredients and the processes used, so he could try to recreate the experience at home.

A wild thought launched itself into Horatio's head, and he gave a mischievous smile. "Hey, Mac," Horatio murmured, and the Marine leaned over. "Why don't you feed Danny?"

Mac blinked, and a look of thanks crossed his face. He had a secret hot spot, and one he'd probably forgotten about for years… until he'd visited Horatio and Speed. The Miami lovers had discovered it purely by accident and they'd wanted to let Danny in on the secret but they didn't want to insult the Italian. Mac and Danny had been sleeping together for nine months; Horatio had slept with the Marine on only three separate occasions, and Speed had only been fucked by him twice.

Mac pulled a small lump of sausage off his pizza and held it out to Danny. The Italian started to reach up for it but Mac drew it back, moving it closer to Danny's face. An odd look crossed Danny's features, but he obediently craned his neck forward and gently lipped at it, and Mac couldn't stop his sharp intake of breath at the sight and the feelings that came from his lover's mouth on his fingers. Danny's eyes popped open, unable to miss the sudden look of arousal that crossed Mac's face.

He drew back and waited. Mac took a small pepperoni and extended it, and Danny went for it but this time he sucked Mac's fingers into his mouth, and Mac could barely stop the lustful growl. There was just something so… so _sensual_, so erotic, about having Danny's mouth caress his calloused fingertips.

Danny blinked at him and released the thick digits. "You _like_ that?"

"I'd say he does," Horatio remarked drolly. "See for yourself."

Danny couldn't help his eyes widening at the sight of the bulge in Mac's crotch. The guy had just come not forty-five minutes ago, probably one of the hardest orgasms of his life, and now this was getting him going again? "I don't believe it," Danny muttered.

Horatio chuckled. "Believe it. Some people simply have odd little quirks. Not all of them are points of arousal, though." He paused for effect. "Take Speed, for instance."

Speed eyed his lover warily. "Don't you dare."

"Dare what?" Mac and Danny wondered at once, and exchanged smiles as Horatio stood and crouched in front of his lover.

Speed put his palms firmly on his own pectorals as though shielding them. "Don't you fucking dare, H," he growled warningly.

Horatio gave Speed a steady look. "Please, Speed? Just this once, and I'll never do it in front of other people again."

Speed looked into his lover's eyes, sighed, and dropped his hands. "Thank you," Horatio said quickly, and darted in to wrap his lips around one nipple. Speed groaned, but suddenly—his teeth were chattering! Mac and Danny watched with wide, amused eyes as Horatio obviously nibbled on the tiny bud of nerves, and Speed's jaw was clacking a mile a minute.

Finally Speed carefully pushed the redhead away and shivered. "I think they get the picture," he grumbled. He took a glance at the New Yorkers and sighed. "Yeah, if I feel teeth on my nipples, I can't keep my teeth from chattering."

"Good ta know." Danny's look was positively evil as he glanced at Mac. "Ya like your fingers in my mouth, eh, _amante_? Gonna have to remember that."

Mac gave him a Look and grabbed hold of his lover's shoulders, twisting him so that Mac could tug his shirt up and then duck down and press his lips to the small of Danny's back and run his tongue all the way up the Italian's spine. Danny arched his back and moaned loud enough to be almost a howl, then collapsed against the Marine with a growl. "Jarhead," he muttered.

Horatio tilted his head. "_Amante_?"

Speed grinned. "Means 'lover' in Italian."

"How'd you know?" Danny looked at Speed with new interest.

Speed just gave Danny a dark smirk. "_Parlo un piccolo italiano. Avete un asino stretto_."

Danny ducked his head and blushed again, and Mac resisted the sudden urge to ravish him then and there. Instead, the Marine cradled his lover close again. "What'd he say?"

Speed grinned at Mac. "I grew up in Syracuse. I can speak a little Italian."

"That's not what you said, though," Mac said with some confidence. "Is it?"

"No, it's not," Danny mumbled, sinking back into Mac.

Horatio leaned into Speed's ear. "_Te amo, y ame su culo apretado_," he growled sensually.

Speed tossed the redhead a sideways glance. "_Viejo lascivo_," he muttered.

Horatio chuckled, nipping at the nearby ear and glancing at the New Yorkers. "Spanish," he explained, then decided to run his tongue along the outer shell of Speed's ear, and the younger man gave the tiniest of sighs—almost a whimper—and allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Suddenly Speed shot his hand out and grabbed a fistful of Horatio's hair at the nape of his neck and craned his own neck to nip gently at the bare skin just below the copper hairline, and Horatio's entire body went slack and Mac had (almost) never heard the redhead moan so loudly before.

Speed released his lover, and they all sat back and looked at each other. "Truce?" Speed asked dryly.

"Truce," Danny agreed instantly, and the older men made noises of agreement.

The banter was friendly as they finished eating, and then Speed announced that he'd like to lay down for a while. Horatio said that he'd join him. Mac and Danny lifted eyebrows and followed them, and the two pairs settled on the separate beds with Horatio and Speed on the bed with the feather-free bedding. At Speed's insistence, they all stripped again.

"I wanted to thank you both, again," Mac said quietly. Danny was lying in front of him, and Mac slid an arm around his waist and kissed his shoulder gently. Over his lover's shoulder, he saw Speed and Horatio give gentle smiles.

"That's not necessary, Mac," Horatio told him. He was laying flat on his back, and at his side Speed lay propped on one elbow and rested a gentle hand on the redhead's stomach. "Mac, I did for you what I would do for anyone: I saw pain, and I knew I had a chance to fix it, and so I took the risk."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Mac told him firmly.

"Same here," Danny seconded.

There was a long pause before Speed cocked his head. "You know, now that you two are back together, we need to celebrate."

Mac was instantly suspicious. "How?"

Speed gave a too-casual shrug. "A foursome."

Mac and Danny exchanged glances, and Horatio snorted. "Yes, and he means it. And I would like it as well, if that's all right with the both of you."

Danny gave his lover a long look. "Sounds like fun. That aright with you, Mac? I don't see us gettin' a lotta chances for it down the line."

Mac had to give him that one. "Why not?" he grudgingly agreed. "We are _not_ leaving this bedroom, though."

Horatio smiled wryly; of course Mac wasn't about to let Danny out of his sight again. "There's no need to go anywhere else," Horatio reasoned. "I'm sure one of these beds can support four people."

Speed lifted a finger. "Remember, H, 'assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups.'"

Mac and Danny chuckled at that one, while Horatio favored his lover with a tolerant smile. "That's true, Speed. However, I distinctly remember that you keep a list of all the furniture you've broken."

"And it's still too damn short!" Speed declared.

Danny was chuckling as he turned to give Mac another kiss. "Sure you're okay with this?"

Mac nodded. "I guess we owe them this much. Love you, by the way."

Danny gave that dazzling smile. "Love ya back." He then slid to the edge of the bed and stood, and Speed copied him. The two eyed each other for a moment and almost simultaneously stepped around each other, swapping partners.

Danny slid up next to Horatio and the redhead welcomed him, tugging him closer and running gentle hands over him. To Mac's eternal surprise, Speed just tugged the comforter down and moved the pillow out of the way and then settled on his elbow to watch the other two.

Mac lifted a single eyebrow. "You're an exhibitionist _and_ a voyeur?"

Speed lifted both of his. "I'm less than ten feet from _that_," and he pointed to Horatio and Danny now kissing and petting like a pair of old lovers, "and you think I'm not gonna watch?"

Mac scratched the back of his neck. "I'd gotten the feeling that you're… well, always _on_, for lack of a better term."

"Nah. I'm just practical." Speed rolled on his back enough to give Mac a dirty little grin. "I'm with two extra hot men that I don't see very often, why the hell _wouldn't_ I want to be naked and ready at a moment's notice?"

Mac didn't know why, but he felt oddly relieved by that. "So you do have control of yourself."

Speed snorted. "Of course I do, but I think we've been over this already: you don't come to a gangbang with the intent of keeping control of yourself, you know?"

Mac sighed and tilted his head and joined Speed in watching Horatio get himself worked up all over again, his hands all over Danny, petting and stroking and teasing his cock back to life. Horatio held one hand out behind him as though waiting for something to be placed in it, and with a dirty grin Speed located the bottle of lube and tossed it at the other bed. It landed next to Horatio, and the redhead grabbed it without breaking his contact with his lips on Danny's nipple.

Mac chuckled. "Looks like you're not the only one with control issues after all."

"Oh, there's no stopping him now," Speed said with a theatrical eye roll. "He brought the pills."

"The pills?" Mac gave Speed a long, hard look.

Speed nodded. "H broke down and got some little blue pills. No insult to him, but he is pushing fifty. He only takes them when he knows he's going to be, uh, active for a long period of time, though. I figure he's got one, maybe two orgasms left in him." He shrugged. "Or until he gets tired, whichever one comes first. Oh, and by the way, I took one, too."

Mac blinked. "That explains a lot." They turned to watch as Horatio knelt between Danny's widespread legs, devouring the Italian's cock while pumping two slow fingers inside him.

Speed looked at Mac, a wry smile on his face. "So, while they're busy, you wanna fuck?"

Mac should be used to the Miami couple's eager and sometimes very blunt sexuality by now, he really should, but it still threw him for a loop every time he encountered it. "I guess," he said finally.

"Cool." Speed pounced on the Marine, devouring his mouth and running hands along the muscular body. Mac was so _different_ from Horatio physically. Horatio was tall and slim and had some chest hair while Mac was stocky and smooth and a total hardbody, and that got Speed hot.

"So," Mac murmured into Speed's mouth, "how do you want it?"

Speed made a thinking noise while he performed a tonsil check on the Marine. When he pulled back for air, he grinned. "Honestly, I've kinda been wanting somebody to nail me through the mattress."

Mac's hands slid along Speed's sides. "That can be arranged."

"Think so?" Speed began to roll to the side, tugging Mac with him until the Marine took initiative and completed the roll so that he was on top. Speed reached a hand out toward the other bed and snapped his fingers, and the lube came flying back to land on the mattress behind Mac. The older man snorted and reached for it, and for one of the condoms piled next to Speed's head.

"You two have a whole system worked out, don't you?" Mac asked wryly, a slick finger finding its way to Speed's entrance, and the younger man arched his back and moaned.

The moan became a sigh of arousal as a second finger joined the first. "Yeah…"

Mac took a glance over at Horatio and Danny, and found his eyes heavy at the sight of Danny's dick halfway down the redhead's throat while one hand cupped his balls and the slender fingers of his other hand on Danny's prostate. Smiling a little to himself, Mac copied the older man and knelt lower, taking Speed's cock into his mouth, and Speed groaned. "Fuck, Mac, you're good."

Mac suddenly realized that he'd never given Speed head before, and resolved to make the experience a good one. He bobbed his head over the hardening cock, slyly adding a third finger, and in no time Speed was writhing and moaning.

"Mac, can you fuck me now?" Speed hissed suddenly. Mac found the idea to be a good one and sheathed himself, applying lube to his cock and then positioning it at Speed's entrance and then sliding slowly in. "Oh, fuck, that feels great," Speed growled, tilting his head back. Mac started a series of quick, short thrusts as he bent down to nip at the exposed windpipe. Mac had a thing for throats.

When Mac came up for breath, it became apparent to him that Horatio wasn't going to fuck Danny but instead seemed content to use his hands and his mouth to drive the Italian wild with lust. Danny writhed and moaned on the bed as Horatio expertly manipulated his body, and just as Danny seemed about to come Horatio drew back, soothing the younger man's outright whine with calming hands on his legs.

"I have a proposition for you, Danny," Horatio said loud enough for the others to hear. "And for Mac as well."

Speed craned his neck to look at his lover, while Mac slowed his thrusts and paid attention.

Horatio smiled. "Mac, why don't you let Danny top you?"

Mac ground to a halt while buried completely inside Speed, and underneath the Marine Speed groaned. "I think he likes the idea, H," he wheezed, shifting as if to prove a point.

On the other hand, Danny suddenly looked nervous. "Me, fuck Mac? I don't… I can't remember the last time I…"

"Danny," Mac interrupted, and instantly those blue eyes were on him. "I'd like for you to. Please?"

Danny still looked unsure, but at least he was still hard. Speed noticed. "C'mon, Danny. Spice it up a little. Complete the circle, and all that."

Danny gave his friend a Look. "So where are _you_ gonna be?"

"Right here," Speed replied firmly, squeezing Mac's waist with his legs. "You have room in the back."

Horatio noticed the look on Mac's face. "What's the matter, Mac? Never been in a sandwich threesome?"

Mac coughed, giving his hips a few lazy thrusts to keep the blood moving. "Never in the middle," he finally admitted.

Speed growled sensually at Mac's movements before giving an exasperated sigh. "Jesus, H, we've got work to do. They've never been to an orgy together or tied each other up or played with ice cubes or _anything_ the slightest bit kinky."

Horatio shrugged. "As odd as it seems, Speed, some people simply don't have kinks."

Speed gave Mac and Danny an utterly disbelieving look. "Freaks," he muttered.

Mac threw his head back and howled with laughter even as he gave an extra-hard thrust of his hips to jostle Speed silent. Speed groaned, then glanced over at the other bed. Horatio was talking into Danny's ear and the Italian was listening hard and nodding nervously, and it almost looked like Horatio was giving the younger man advice.

Finally Danny steeled his nerves, balled his fists, and walked over to the bed where Mac had slowed considerably in his pace with Speed. "You sure you want me ta do this, Mac?" Danny whispered quietly. "Ya really want me ta fuck ya?"

Mac nodded. "Only as long as you're comfortable with it, then yes."

Danny swallowed. "What if I—"

"Danny," Speed interrupted, "the only way you're gonna screw up is if you somehow manage to _hurt_ Mr. Buns of Steel here."

The Italian gave a nervous laugh, and impulsively reached out to slap one hand on Mac's taut backside. "_My_ buns a' steel!" he growled, then drew back his hand as if he'd been burned. "Sorry, Mac, I just—"

"You're allowed to do that, Danny," Mac said patiently. "Like you said, it's yours, remember?" He reached out and tugged Danny closer to him, giving his surprised lover a kiss on the lips. "I love you," he reminded the younger man, "and I'm not going to dump you again. Especially not for something as petty as just smacking me on the ass."

Horatio glanced skyward and smiled at Speed, who rolled his eyes and gave a silent but dramatic sigh. They'd thought that getting love back into Mac's head would be the hard part, but it turned out to be only half the battle. Now they had to get Danny out of his 'please don't leave me' mindset and assert himself as a partner.

Danny swallowed and climbed onto the bed, and Mac spread his knees slightly so the Italian could kneel between them. For a moment Danny looked ready to rebel when Horatio stepped up near Mac's head. "You don't have to do this, Danny, if you're not comfortable with it," the redhead murmured, "but Mac wants you to. Don't you, Mac?"

"Yes, I do," Mac agreed. "Danny, please fuck me."

Danny's jaw dropped at hearing those words out of his lover's mouth. He took a deep breath and reached for the lube, putting some on his fingers. He hesitated before reaching for Mac's pucker, and he got a surprise. "You're slick already… ya prep yourself?"

Mac tossed Horatio a chagrined look. "No, Horatio topped me earlier tonight."

Danny's look was hurt. "Ya… ya let 'im fuck ya before _me_?"

Horatio started to explain when Mac interrupted him. "Don't hold it against him, Danny. He was giving me a lesson in humility."

"Know what I don't get?" Speed interjected. "People take sex so damn personally these days. I mean, I know that sex _is_ personal, but sometimes you just gotta let loose and fuck the next guy that walks into the room."

"Says you," Horatio growled. "I like to get to know someone before I do them."

"Same here," Mac nodded, and Danny concurred.

Speed sighed again. "Oh well, to each their own. Now Danny, quit stalling and _screw him._"

Danny sighed and took the condom that Horatio held out to him, preparing his own length. He took a controlled breath as poised himself at Mac's entrance and then he froze. "Mac… you sure?" What if he messed up, or what if he wasn't good enough, or what if Mac didn't like it, or what if something went catastrophically wrong and this whole night was just a dream, or—

Mac answered by leaning backwards against Danny's cock, and Horatio's gentle hand found the small of Danny's back, and Danny closed his eyes and pressed forward. When he'd gotten the head in, things changed. Mac gave a low moan of contentment, and Danny's hands found Mac's hips and slid the rest of the way in slowly.

The world seemed to hold its breath; the New Yorkers wore identical eyes-closed, slightly open-mouthed faces of fulfillment. "Danny," Mac murmured after a while, "it's perfect."

Danny rested in the tight heat, his hands trembling slightly. "Perfect," he echoed quietly. "I love ya, Mac."

"Love you, Danny," Mac responded, pressing back against his lover and then pushing forward against Speed, drawing quiet moans from all three of them.

It was with a satisfied smile that Horatio crawled onto the bed with them, and it began to creak dangerously under the weight of four grown men in motion.

"We're gonna end up bustin' this fuckin' bed," Danny suddenly cackled, pressing against his lover's back.

"Damn right," Speed replied with a snort. "You know the sex is great when you end up breaking the furniture." He let his legs fall open and spread them to the sides, giving Danny plenty of room, and the look on Mac's face was pure erotic bliss.

"Still," Horatio began in an amused tone as he knelt by his lover's face, "I'd rather not have to explain to the hotel manager how or _why_ we need to pay for a new bedframe."

"Kinda hard to talk with my mouth full," Speed said dryly, reaching for his lover's erect cock, and Horatio took the hint and straddled Speed's head, the younger man taking the redhead completely down his throat.

In that position, Horatio's sun-starved ass filled Mac's vision and made a perfect target for the Marine's broad tongue. He wanted to spread the cheeks apart but support became something of an issue, and eventually they worked things out so that Horatio had one hand braced on the bed and his other holding one part of his ass, one of Mac's hands cupping the redhead's balls, and one of Speed's hands holding his lover's other ass cheek while he stroked himself with his off hand.

The world closed down to the four of them, and the air was filled with masculine gasps and groans and the smell of sex. Horatio threw his head back and moaned as Speed massaged his dick with his throat muscles while Mac's tongue teased his entrance. Mac could still taste Speed's come inside the redhead and he thrust his tongue deeper, seeking more of that flavor, and he was rewarded with a watery groan from the man whose entrance he now tasted. All the while, Mac fucked himself between Speed and Danny in a regular rhythm, and Danny was kissing his lover's back and moaning even as he gripped Mac's hips with firm hands, stroking into that wonderfully tight, hot, and long-denied body that he loved so much.

Horatio was the first one to come, trembling and groaning as he fired his seed into Speed's mouth, and Speed came not long after. Mac paused as Speed's entrance gripped him tightly, but he didn't come from the sensation. Carefully Horatio disengaged himself and then helped Speed wiggle out from under Mac, leaving the New Yorkers alone on that bed while the Miami pair staggered back over to the other side of the room.

Now that it was just him and Mac, Danny picked up his pace. To the watchers' eyes, Danny wasn't fucking Mac so much as he was bouncing off the Marine's muscular buttocks but he had a look of such pure _ecstasy_ on his face that Horatio and Speed couldn't help running caressing hands over each other as the Italian gripped Mac's hips and slammed into him for everything he was worth, a steady stream of moans and curses pouring from his lips.

For his part, Mac had his eyes tightly closed, leaning back and letting Danny impact against him, a noise not unlike a moan resonating quietly from his throat. His dick was definitely hard but he wasn't stroking it; he seemed content to let Danny take him.

"Fuck," Danny snarled suddenly, grinding to a halt.

Mac twisted around. "What's wrong?"

Danny looked ready to cry. "I'm not sure I can keep goin' much longer, Mac. I feel like… like I ain't doin' it right. S'been a while, ya know?"

"You're doing just fine, Danny," Mac soothed.

Danny almost pouted. "I wanna get ya off, though," he mumbled.

Mac closed his eyes briefly and brought one hand off the bed to stroke himself. "Keep going, Danny. Please," he murmured. "Please don't stop, _amante_."

Danny swallowed and leaned over his lover, gripping his hips and thrusting a bit more slowly, and he almost seemed to be experimenting with different depths and angles until he found the one that made Mac jerk and emit a long, rolling growl. Surprised pleasure crossed Danny's face when he realized that he'd found the spot and he kept hitting it, and Mac lifted his head and groaned at the ceiling, his eyes tightly closed and his lip between his teeth, his hand moving along his own shaft in quick, firm strokes.

Horatio had never seen a man fight so hard for his orgasm before. Mac wanted to, _craved_ to come around Danny, to show him that Danny wasn't just a bottom but a _partner_. Unfortunately the Marine had already come twice that night, and both times from very hard fucks, and he was bound to be more than a little tired. Horatio lowered his lips to Speed's ear. "Remember his trigger?" the redhead murmured, and Speed brightened at the sudden inspiration.

They exchanged mischievous glances and slid off the bed, heading for Mac. Speed climbed onto the bed beside the New Yorkers and flipped over onto his back, sliding underneath the Marine, mouth questing for the thick rod between Mac's legs. Mac groaned and moved his hand out of the way to grant Speed access, and he started to put his hand down to the mattress for support before Horatio snatched it up, wrapping lips around a forefinger and staring into Mac's eyes with his own sapphire eyes full of lust.

A haze passed over Mac's face and he locked onto the sight of Horatio deep-throating his thick finger, and the sight of that and the feel of Speed's soft hot mouth surrounding his cock and the feel of Danny thrusting against his prostate was all too much and he snarled and shook and clenched the bedspread with his support hand and clamped down around Danny and came, sparks flashing behind his eyes and an odd tingling feeling running up and down his spine, and he moaned when Danny kept going, the contractions of his lover around his cock driving Danny to the brink and then shoving him over, and Danny bruised Mac's hips with his hands as he came, coming inside Mac for the first time.

The entire world seemed to freeze, to shrink until it was just Mac gasping and trembling while Speed milked his cock, and Danny's rod quivering into Mac's insides, and Horatio running soothing hands along Mac's shoulder while he licked the finger, and then it was over and Horatio and Speed's mouths were gone and it was just Mac and Danny, the Italian still buried inside his lover as though he had finally found Paradise and he never wanted to leave it.

Horatio and Speed were quiet, allowing the New Yorkers their moment and instead pressed their own lips together, sharing the salty fluid that Speed had picked up, smiling into each other's mouths. "Mission accomplished," Speed whispered in a voice that Horatio barely heard, and the redhead smiled broadly and wrapped firm arms around his lover, sharing a kiss that was both deep and sweet.

"Holy shit," Danny finally gasped, and the Miami pair looked up in time to see the Italian slumped over his lover's back. "That was… oh, _God_, that was…"

"Incredible?" Speed supplied with a wryly-lifted eyebrow. "Great? Fantastic? Amazing?"

"Yes," Danny wheezed.

Speed tried to restrain a grin. "Yes, what?"

Mac answered. "All of the above," he groaned. "Danny, can you… it's starting to itch."

Danny sighed and pulled out, flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling. His eyes closed and he licked his lips when Mac turned to peel off his condom and then bent down to clean the spent cock before he stood, tossing the condom away and locating the one that Speed had thrown earlier.

Speed rolled his eyes. "Oh God, he's a neat freak."

Mac lifted an eyebrow and sat carefully on the bed. "This, coming from the man who keeps his kitchen so clean that I could see myself in a _slate_ countertop?"

Speed lifted a single finger—and not a friendly one. "I just have this thing about bacteria, okay?"

Horatio slapped his lover's hand down and grunted in his ear for him to behave before raising his own voice. "Danny, you still with us?"

Still flat on his back, Danny lifted a hand into the air and gave a thumbs-up and a satisfied groan. Mac chuckled and swung his legs to lay next to his lover, laying a kiss on the side of his neck. "Thank you, Danny," he murmured.

Danny waved the upraised hand before letting it flop to the bed. "Don't thank me. They got you off."

Mac blinked. "No, they just helped. Believe me, you were the biggest thought running through my mind."

Danny lifted his head to give the Miami pair a hurt look. "I wanted ta do it myself," he started.

Speed waved him off. "Mac's not used to coming from behind, Danny. It's not something that happens easily. Matter of fact, it takes practice and experience to get used to it."

Horatio nodded in agreement. "And Danny, you're not used to topping. Granted, I'm sure that you're both happy with Mac on top, but it's good to switch roles every now and then. You're _partners_, remember?"

Danny sighed morosely, but some of his gloom disappeared when Mac reached over to wrap strong arms around him. "Danny, you did fine," Mac murmured.

Danny leaned back into his lover. Quietly, almost too quietly for the Miami pair to hear, Danny whispered "Mind if I try again sometime?"

"Not at all," Mac said instantly. Strange, he didn't even have to think about it. Something had changed in their relationship, and not just the things they said to each other.

To be perfectly and brutally honest with himself, Mac had been treating Danny like a rented 'man of the evening' as he held out that one astronomical chance that Claire would be found. Now that he'd accepted her death and officially paired himself with Danny, he found all those sorely underused feelings of love and affection beginning to stir. He wanted Danny to be happy.

Danny, he realized, had bottomed to him every single time and never protested anything Mac did simply because he'd been terrified that the Marine would leave him. Nine months they'd dated, and Danny had put his best foot forward every time he'd walked into Mac's apartment. They'd been all but at each other's throats when Danny had first became one of Mac's CSIs, but it wasn't until Sonny Sassone had been put away that Danny had realized that he really did respect Mac. He liked him. Even loved him.

Everything about Mac was strength. Strong hands, strong heart, strong mind, strong body, everything so strong. He'd built a wall around himself, a wall that no emotion could penetrate… but three words from Danny had sent that crashing down around him, leaving him defenseless. He couldn't protect himself from Danny's love and so now he needed something else to protect. _True_ strength, he decided, came not from the ability to protect yourself but to protect someone else.

Now Mac didn't know what to think, other than he was extremely happy that Danny had forgiven him. This was going to get complicated; he had to be Danny's boss as much as he was Danny's lover. At the same time, he also wanted Danny to feel appreciated and loved and yes, respected in their relationship.

"Love you, Danny," Mac murmured yet again, holding his lover close.

"Love ya, Mac," Danny responded, relaxing into that firm embrace.

"God, don't tell me they're gonna be doing that all night," Speed grumbled from the other side of the room. Mac and Danny lifted their heads to see that Speed was alone in the bed. Horatio was standing nearby and giving his lover a look that was half amused, half reproachful. Speed saw the look and waved the redhead off. "Go take your shower, H. Leave me trapped here with the lovebirds."

Mac lifted an eyebrow. "First you can't wait for me to say it, and now you want me to stop?"

Speed shrugged. "I just wanna be able to sleep, is all."

Horatio paused to slap his lover's foot. "I recall you and I being the same way when we first said it, Speed. Now, come with me. You can scrub my back."

Speed rousted himself from the bed and gave his lover a gentle kiss. "Be glad to, H. I could use a good scrub, too."

Mac's smile was bemused as the Miami pair headed for the bathroom. He shook his head and curled closer to Danny again. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Mind what?"

"Me saying that all the time. Or acting like this." Mac squeezed his lover again for emphasis.

Danny rolled his eyes and gave a patronizing smile. "He asks if I mind?" he grumbled. "Mac, I'm thinkin' that I've died and gone ta Hell, 'cause there ain't no way that anything this friggin' amazing is allowed in Heaven."

Mac smiled and kissed him again, and the two just lay there and floated in the calm, enjoying being so close to each other. He was just starting to drift off to sleep when he heard the sounds of a hair dryer and he blinked himself awake.

A few minutes later the Miami lovers emerged from the bathroom, and Mac glanced at the clock with an eyebrow raised. He'd expected that they would be 'showering' for a while, but to his surprise they emerged after a respectable period. Horatio's hair looked freshly dried, Speed's was still a little damp, and neither one was carrying that 'I've just been fucked' look to their eyes. Speed caught Mac's glance. "Honestly? I've had enough screwing for one night, and so has he. I have limits, too, you know. Now is the time for all the snuggling."

Mac wouldn't have started laughing so hard if Speed hadn't delivered that line with a completely straight face and neutral tone.

Danny nudged his lover. "You wanna shower, too, Mac?"

Mac caught his breath and wrapped the Italian in a firm embrace, lying mostly on his side. "I don't want to move, to be honest."

"I hear a 'but' somewhere."

Mac sighed. "Need to hit the head… and brush my teeth."

"Sounds good ta me." Danny's muscles twitched as though about to move, and he stopped. "You're right, it's too damn comfy."

Still standing, Speed frowned and leaned over and delivered a sharp backhand to Mac's ass, making both New Yorkers jump. Mac sat up and glared at him, and Speed shrugged. "You're up now, aren't you?"

Mac sighed and stood. "Thank you."

"No problem." Speed followed Horatio into bed and the two immediately tangled their limbs together in a comfortable pile. "You're fucking me first thing in the morning," Speed mumbled in the redhead's general direction.

Horatio gave a tired snort. "Of course I am. Now go to sleep, Speed."

Chuckling, Mac went to use the bathroom and realized that he didn't have a toothbrush with him. He was sure that Horatio and Speed wouldn't mind him using theirs, but he settled for rinsing with some mouthwash. Danny staggered into the bathroom and copied him.

They fell back into bed together. "Love you, Danny," Mac murmured.

"Love ya, Mac."

Speed's voice came from the other side of the room. "Love you, H."

"Love you, Speed."

Mac sighed. "Good night, John Boy."

"Fuck you," Speed grunted.

"I will in the morning," Horatio growled. "Now, let's all go to sleep."

THE NEXT MORNING

Mac stirred.

He felt deliciously rested, totally sated… and warm. He opened his eyes slowly, finding the room still dark except for light shining through cracks in the window blinds. A heavy weight on his chest brought him closer to consciousness, and he lifted his head enough to see a tousled mess of dirty-blond hair resting comfortably over his heart.

_Danny… _

Suddenly Mac remembered last night, and everything that had happened, and he let his head drop back onto the pillow. Last night had been a blur of sex and heated words, of lust and pent-up feelings… and of Danny, and Mac's heart skipped a beat.

"I love you, Danny," he whispered in the quietest tone he could manage.

"Hey, Mac's awake," came an answering murmur from the other side of the room.

Mac blinked and turned his head, and sighed. "Do you two ever stop?" he growled softly.

Speed snorted and Horatio grunted. In the dim light, Mac could see Horatio's pale hands gripping his lover's ass, spreading the cheeks apart as the younger man rose and fell upon the redhead's stiff length. Mac wondered how he hadn't heard them sooner until he made out the hotel bedsheets that they'd pulled onto Horatio's stomach and hips surrounding his cock, acting as a flimsy sort of silencer against the impact of Speed's ass against the redhead's hips.

"C'mon, Mac," Speed murmured suddenly. "Haven't you ever had a first-thing-in-the-morning fuck just for the pure hell of it? I mean, I could care less if I get off right now."

Horatio agreed. "We're just enjoying ourselves."

Mac tilted his head. "Don't you have to use the bathroom?"

Speed shrugged and bounced over his lover's hips. "I already have this morning, but he hasn't. Sometimes he has trouble coming when he's gotta piss but that just means he keeps it up longer."

"And who am I to refuse him?" Horatio put in with a smile. "Normally he hates morning sex."

"Normally I hate mornings, period," Speed grumped.

Mac shook his head and glanced down at his lover, who was still curled against him with his head on the Marine's chest and still utterly unconscious. He thought for a moment. "Danny and I are both fairly regular, and if I remember right, his time is within an hour of waking up, so…"

Speed snickered. "You don't have to fuck to fool around, Mac."

"Good." Mac began ever-so-slowly rearranging his lover so that he could climb out of bed without waking him up. "Because my time is now." He ignored the chuckles coming from his friends as he padded into the bathroom, and when he was done he came back to bed and was about to climb in when he saw the clock, and froze. "Oh, goddammit…"

"It's all right, Mac," Horatio soothed. "I called Stella."

Mac stood and whirled to face the redhead. "You what?"

Horatio sighed and tapped Speed's leg, and the younger man grumbled and climbed off. Horatio sighed at the loss—God had given men a brain and a dick, and only enough blood to properly run one at a time—before sitting up to look at the Marine. "She knows about you and Danny. When I was with her looking for Rosie for Lydia Johnson's murder, we started talking about you and it led to Danny, and she let it slip." There was a twinkle in his eye. "I called her to let her know that you two were, ah, busy making things right."

Mac put his hands on his hips. "And what'd she say?"

Horatio smiled. "She said that if anyone asked, Danny had had a nervous breakdown and you were discreetly taking care of him and making sure he didn't hurt himself, because you're a fine gentleman like that and you didn't want it to go on his record that he'd checked himself into a private institution."

Mac stared at him, incredulous shock plastered over his face. It took him a long time to find his voice. "You're telling me," he growled quietly, "that not only did you tell Stella that I'm sleeping with Danny again, but you two conspired an excuse that would give Danny a legitimate reason to move in with me?"

"More or less," Speed told him with a grin, and then the grin faded. "Just seeing him in the lab, it looked like he was two steps away from offing himself. It'll be believable if you're letting him move in with you to keep an eye on him and make sure he gets healthy again. He's too damn skinny as it is."

Horatio nodded sadly at the pain that crossed the Marine's face. "This is your chance to make it right, Mac. Take him home with you, and _keep_ him there."

"Hey, it works for us," Speed argued. "Look at me. I'm still living with H even though I'm fully recovered from getting shot. I've just been with him so long that nobody's really saying anything about it anymore. That, and I tell people that I have a mystery boyfriend that can't afford to come out of the closet—which isn't a lie, by the way—and H takes lesbians out to dinner every now and then so they can both cover their reputations."

Mac thought about it for a good, long moment, and then he smiled broadly. "I don't know how I can thank you both, for everything."

Speed gave him a dirty grin. "You could always put on a show for us." He was utterly shameless as he turned and began stroking his lover's softening cock, bringing it back to full length. Mac watched for a few seconds before turning back to look at his still-sleeping lover. Danny just looked so peaceful, Mac almost hated to disturb him. Almost.

Cautiously the Marine crawled onto the bed and considered his best course of action. A long-buried mischievous streak managed to peek through, and he carefully turned and moved and shifted until his knees were on either side of Danny's head and his hands on either side of Danny's hips. Danny didn't even move.

Speed was already back astride Horatio, and the younger man cocked his head. "He always sleep that soundly?"

Mac gave a thoughtful shrug. "He does when I've worn him out." Ever-so-slowly Mac tugged the covers down to Danny's thighs, revealing Italian's limp cock and the nest of dark blond pubic hair. Mac smiled and leaned down, just breathing hot air onto it, and the cock twitched slightly.

Slowly and patiently he kept breathing on it, occasionally ghosting calloused fingertips along it, until it started to stand on its own. Danny shifted in his sleep with a dreamy smile on his face, and that made Mac break into a wide grin. Gently he flicked his tongue out to lick it, watching it bob a little, and ever so softly he pressed his lips to the tip. Danny shifted again and made a little noise as Mac opened his mouth and let the tip slide inside, the Marine barely touching it with his mouth, teasing the sleeper to the point where Danny started writhing gently, little humming sounds vibrating from his throat.

Mac let his lips press firmly around Danny's shaft and began pulling up slowly. He could feel his own length growing hard as Danny's newest angle began aiming hot air toward him, and he felt a flash of tongue; Danny had licked his lips.

"Mac?" Danny's sleep-clogged voice finally came from somewhere around the Marine's nether regions. Mac silenced him by nudging the Italian's cheek with his cock even as he engulfed the younger man's own now-throbbing member, earning a sudden startled groan from his lover.

"I think he's awake now," Speed said with a grin, straightening for a better look.

"I think he is, too." Horatio grasped his lover's ass with both hands, aiding in the lift and fall of the younger man upon his erection.

Danny flicked a glance at them, seeing Speed riding his older lover while the Miami pair stared at the New Yorkers, watching them with a mixture of lust and something almost like satisfaction. Danny rubbed his eyes and moaned as Mac let his lips slide slowly up and down Danny's cock, worshipping the shaft, and Danny hissed and moaned. "Jesus, Mac, this is one helluva wake-up."

Mac lifted his head enough to speak. "Do you mind?"

Danny yawned himself awake. "Hell, no."

Mac smiled and took the opportunity to blow cool air on Danny's dick before dunking it back into the hot depths of his mouth, and Danny groaned.

"Nope," Speed's voice came, "I don't think he minds."

Danny gave Speed a challenging look as he swallowed Mac's length in one gulp, and Speed put a hand on the bedspread, leaning over to flick the bedside light on for a better look. "Jesus, H, he's taking Mac all the way in!"

Horatio's voice was husky with lust but he couldn't help asking, "Mac, doesn't he scrape you at all?"

Mac gave a negative grunt and buried his nose in the dirty-blond pubic hair before him.

Speed was impressed. "It took fuckin' _effort_ for me to suck him off. You're good, Danny."

"Yes, he is," Horatio agreed. "And believe me, that's saying something when it's coming from Speed."

"Me?" Speed managed to look offended. "You're one of maybe ten people at Deviate that can deep-throat Felix."

Danny furrowed his eyebrows as he nosed his lover's balls, and Speed explained. "Picture Mac, but about seven feet tall." Danny's eyes widened.

Mac snagged Danny's attention back to himself, keeping a tight seal of suction on his lover's shaft, appreciating him. He felt Danny do the same and he gave a sigh of lustful contentment. Sex was about giving as much as it was about receiving and here he was doing both. It was nice, to just have a lazy morning to wake up and enjoy a slow breakfast of Italian sausage.

Mac's entire being was centered on Danny's cock, but presently Danny's own ministrations were beginning to distract him. He fought to stay on task, to keep going, and finally he won. Danny let his mouth go slack and nursed absently on Mac's cock as the Marine doubled his efforts to pleasure his lover. Danny began to writhe and moan as Mac took him all the way down to the root, and it was with a muffled cry against Mac's length that Danny came, and Mac greedily sucked down every drop.

Danny took a few moments to pant and wheeze before seizing Mac's dick again, and this time he gave it his undivided attention. Mac gritted his teeth—God, why had they never tried this angle before? Deep-throating was so much easier when it actually followed the curve of the throat—and fought the urge to thrust into Danny's mouth. He was doing well until Danny's hands found his hips and hinted that he should do just that. Mac planted his elbows for a better angle and rocked his hips gently into that warm, soft mouth, and finally he jerked and gave a long rolling growl as he fired his seed down Danny's throat.

Once his muscles stopped trembling, he carefully crawled off his lover and turned to lay fully on top of him, running fingers through his hair and giving him a long, sensual kiss, sharing the taste of their seed. Danny's hands ran up and down Mac's back, and there were satisfied groans from both of them.

When Mac came up for air, he paused. Odd, Horatio and Speed were strangely quiet. He turned to look, and saw with a smile that Speed had crawled off his lover and peeled off his condom and the two had started mimicking Danny and Mac. Speed's head wasn't moving much, and his eyes were closed as Horatio put his talented mouth to work on sucking his lover dry. Speed gave a strangled shout as he came and then swooped down on the redhead's cock, returning the favor.

Danny was staring. "Jesus, how many times in a day do you two fuck? What the hell do they feed you guys down in Florida, anyway?"

Speed snorted and used every trick he knew and finally Horatio came, shaking and trembling. While the redhead was catching his breath, Speed lifted one hand to wipe his mouth on his wrist. "Told you H has problems coming when he's gotta piss."

"Speaking of which," Horatio growled and gave a pointed shove at Speed's hip, and the younger man rolled off so Horatio could stand and go to the bathroom. When he came back, he'd straightened his hair while he was at it. "There have been times where we've actually had to stop because I couldn't come. We'd go so long that even Speed couldn't take it anymore."

"I resent those implications," Speed muttered dryly. He stood and stretched. "Well, Mac, you want to give Danny the good news?"

Mac smiled and looked at the slim Italian laying next to him. "You're moving in with me, Danny."

Danny's jaw fell open and he glanced at Horatio and Speed, and the Miami pair just smiled and nodded at him. "It's true," Horatio confirmed.

Danny's mouth worked but no sound came out, and suddenly he swung his legs to fly off the bed and dive at the standing pair, wrapping both of them in a bear hug. "I don't know how to thank you guys," he started.

"No worries," Horatio murmured. "Just promise that you'll try not to drive Mac crazy."

"Deal," Danny said instantly. Speed gave him a pointed pat on the shoulder and the Italian released them. Danny paused, thinking. "How are we gonna get me moved? I mean, I got a lotta stuff, ya know?"

"Well," Horatio started thoughtfully, "Speed and I don't go back home until very early tomorrow morning. That gives us all day to help you get moved."

Mac cocked his head, thinking. "Flack's scheduled off today. I'll see if he wants to help."

"And of course we're gonna pay 'im back for his help, right, Mac?" Danny gave a devious grin, and Mac snorted.

The four of them cleaned up and got dressed and darted down to the commissary for a quick bite to eat. Mac called Flack and the detective was most agreeable, especially considering both his 'payment plan' and the fact that Mac had finally pulled his head out of his ass. Flack told them that he'd grab a cab to meet them at Danny's apartment and he'd pick up some boxes along the way.

No sooner had Flack arrived with a heaping armload of unfolded cardboard than he was right back out the door again with Speed in tow, going to rent a vehicle capable of holding lots and lots of cargo. There were a few pieces of furniture that Danny wanted to keep, but not many. Mac's apartment was already comfortably furnished.

When Flack and Speed got back to Danny's, a small tower of boxes was already waiting. Danny was bouncing around in a state that could only be described as 'panicked glee' while Horatio and Mac were calmly and neatly packing Danny's things in cardboard. They did a little switch-up; Danny was commandeered by Horatio to help Mac start moving boxes down the stairs. Danny needed a labor-intensive task, and working with Mac would help calm him down. It would also keep the Italian from nitpicking on how they were storing his sports collectibles.

Through it all, The Mook just sat out of the way and watched the five men strip Danny's apartment nearly bare. Danny was amazed at how little time it took until he stood back and thought about the people helping him. CSIs tended to be very efficient and organized, and also very skilled at packaging things to both safeguard the objects and take up as little space as possible.

The lights were beginning to come on in the New York skyline when Danny locked his door for the last time. He'd deal with the paperwork later, but right now he just wanted to get to his new home. Mac smiled at him and put a casual arm over the Italian's shoulder as they headed to the elevator, with The Mook in Speed's arms.

Horatio smiled at Mac. "Any doubts?"

Mac shook his head. "Not a single one. This feels right."

"Feels like it's 'bout time, too," Danny mock-growled, and the quintet laughed at that. They piled into the little cubicle and Danny punched the lobby button.

The Marine cocked his head. "Horatio, Tim, would you like to check out of the hotel and spend the night with us?"

To his surprise, they shook their heads. Horatio explained. "We don't want to intrude. This will be the first night that Danny _lives_ with you. First nights are special, even if all you end up doing is sleep." He paused to smile fondly at his lover. "Just remember, Mac, it isn't _your_ apartment anymore. It's Danny's, too."

Mac nodded. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

Speed gave a devious grin. "On the other hand, we'll help you get all the boxes from the truck to the apartment if you'll feed us."

Mac held his hand out to shake. "I could go for that. There's a deli down the block that delivers."

Speed looked at Horatio and shook his head. "I'm the only one here that's never lived in Manhattan, and I still can't get over that. You guys can have anything delivered. Hell, even McDonald's delivers!"

Horatio hugged his lover. "I'd forgotten about that. I'm used to your cooking."

Mac thought for a moment. "You know, every time I've come down to Miami, Tim always cooks. Why don't you ever cook, Horatio?"

Speed answered for him. "Because H can't cook worth a damn. I don't get it. I mean, he's one hell of a cop and he's got a Master's in chemistry, but cooking just… hates him."

Flack gave the flushed redhead a look of camaraderie. "Hey, join the club, pal. You ain't the only one."

Speed shook his head at his lover. "He likes his steak a little rare for my tastes… or my comfort. I swear, with the right equipment, I think Alexx could make it get up and walk again."

Mac leaned over to whisper to Danny and Flack that Alexx was the Miami CSI dayshift's Medical Examiner.

Horatio stared at the floor. "Have I mentioned lately how much I like your steak, Speed?"

"Or my _ropa vieja_? Speaking of which, if you're good, I'll make a batch when we get home."

The doors dinged open and the men headed for the curb. Here they split up; Mac climbed into the driver's seat of the truck with Danny next to him while Horatio, Speed, and Flack squeezed into a cab. Speed didn't mind being in the middle.

Danny lived halfway across the city, and when cab and truck pulled up in front of Mac's apartment building, they were like a trail of ants carrying boxes up the elevator and piling them—neatly—in Mac's living room. Mac _and Danny's_ living room.

When it was done, they slumped on various furniture. Speed lifted a hand. "Feed me."

Mac laughed and went for the phone book. "While I'm looking this up, you guys figure out what you want." He'd barely gotten the place on the line when orders began coming from all directions. He growled at them and made them slow down so the deli worker on the other end of the phone could keep up.

When the food arrived, they arranged themselves a bit more comfortably on the furniture. Danny hopped up to grab beers for everybody and they lapsed into friendly banter.

"Ya know," Flack started, "this means that Mac's gonna be halfway normal now."

Eyebrows lifted all over the room, and Speed was the first to reply. "How do you figure?"

Flack shrugged casually. "Now when he can't sleep, he's got somethin' to do besides more work."

Danny tilted back on the couch and clapped his hands, howling gleefully, and Mac just looked embarrassed. Horatio was smiling until he caught Speed's pointed stare, and the redhead scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not really one to talk," he admitted. "I'm the same way."

"You used to be," Speed corrected dryly. He paused and fixed his lover with a suspicious stare. "H, have you been sneaking around behind my back? Crawling out of bed in the middle of the night to go stare at some dirty evidence and incriminating photographs?"

Horatio's reply was delivered in a perfect deadpan. "What can I say? Nothing better to put me to sleep than reading one of your chemical analysis reports."

Speed frowned. "And here I was going to say nice things about your fingerprinting layouts."

Danny lifted a finger. "You should try readin' some of Mac's crime scene reconstructions. I swear, my CSI 'safety first' orientation guide was more entertainin'. This angle from this direction an' this height and the bullet goes through this chair with legs of Douglas fir and tri-color upholstery and the stuffin' and the backin' and…" he trailed off and drooped his eyelids. Beside him, The Mook yawned. Danny snickered and handed his dog a small piece of pepperoni.

Mac cocked his head and an eyebrow. "What about your spreadsheets? I've seen more action while reading the stock reports."

Flack shook his head and gave an elaborate sigh. "Friggin' scientists. Can't you guys just catch a game or somethin'?"

Horatio and Speed looked blank, Mac looked bored, and Danny shook his head. Flack sighed. "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"Get outta here," Danny growled good-naturedly, "I can't ever sleep after watchin' the game. You know that."

There was laughter all around, and they finished their food. The skyline was almost dark by the time they'd gotten most of the boxes unpacked, and finally Horatio put his hands on his hips and looked around. "Gentlemen, I believe that's about all we can get done this evening. Unfortunately Speed and I have to get back to the hotel. We're catching the red-eye."

Mac and Danny were sorry to see them go, but firm embraces were exchanged between the four of them, and Flack got handshakes… and a few sultry looks from Speed. Apparently the two had hit it off. Speed gave The Mook a parting scratch, and then they were gone.

Flack looked at his friends. "They're right, guys. We're up dark and early tomorrow, too." He gave the lovers a meaningful look. "Try not ta keep the neighbors up, hear me?"

Danny waved that off. "Get outta here, ya clown. You're keepin' _us_ up."

Mac just smiled. "See you tomorrow, Don."

Finally it was just Mac and Danny and The Mook, and the dog looked up at Mac as if to ask where he could sleep. He didn't have a doggy bed; he was used to sleeping either on the couch or with Danny.

The Italian sighed at his pet. "Ya ain't sleepin' with us, pal."

The Mook made a grumbling noise and hopped up onto a nearby recliner.

Mac extended his hand and let Danny to the bedroom and wrapped him in a firm embrace, burying his nose in the dirty-blond hair and drinking in the scent. "Love you, Danny."

"Love ya, Mac."

Still holding his lover, Mac sighed. "I hate to do this to you, but I'm going to be rather un-romantic and say that I'm exhausted."

"Same here." Danny kissed the older man's neck and stepped back. "Wanna get some shut-eye?"

"Sounds good."

They stripped to nothing and climbed into bed, immediately tangling together comfortably. Mac gave the deep-seated sigh of the truly content. "Good night, _amante_."

Danny smiled. "G'night, Mac."


End file.
